


Emerald Star: Before the War

by Seuris, Songspinner



Series: Emerald Star [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Flayn shows up for half a second too, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seuris/pseuds/Seuris, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songspinner/pseuds/Songspinner
Summary: The Golden Deer host a party in their classroom after the White Heron ball that goes in some unexpected directions after Hilda teaches them how to play spin the bottle. Claude and Dimitri didn't realize just how much they had in common until after that night, or how drawn they would be to one another; meanwhile, the school year gets more dangerous with each passing moon.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: Emerald Star [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580530
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is one of two that go together--this one's preskip, the second one (Emerald Star: The Deer and the Lion) is a VW/AM mashup postskip.

"I still don't believe I'm entirely sold on this." Dimitri enters the classroom, having shed his heavy cloak, and carefully rearranges the bottles in his arms onto the nearest desk. Please, don't ask him how he got roped into _taking alcohol_ from the professors, he'll be too embarrassed. "Usually in Faerghus, the point is that you're far too tired for anything else, by the time the celebration is over..."

"Good thing the room is filled with pillows, then." Claude shuffles some of those pillows around and finds a good place to set up the 'bar'...which turns out to be Berith's desk. It's only been a little more than a week since the Death Knight and an unknown assassin somehow bypassed monastery security to attack the dormitories in an attempt to steal the Sword of the Creator, and most of the rooms that were wrecked in the ensuing chaos were those of Golden Deer students--Lysithea, Marianne, and Leonie among them. So Berith had the whole house bring every pillow they could get their hands on into the classroom and build a giant pillow fort for them to sleep in until the dorms were repaired and classes resumed.

Dimitri scoffs. "Please, compared to home, this celebration was nothing. Ah, do be careful, you might get something on your professor's belongings...?"

"It's fine, Teach knows we're doing this, and we'll clean up if anything happens." Claude gives Dimitri a smirk. "Oh, are Faerghus parties that much rowdier?" He clears out a space in the middle of the room, pushing the pillows and blankets back. Then he hunts down an empty wine bottle, weighing it in his hand. Good for spinning?...good for spinning.

"Usually... things may end up broken. Though that's not necessarily a staple, just a fact of life."

"Well, next time I vote the Blue Lions show us all how it's done."

"I don't know if that would be allowed."

Claude shrugs. "Hey, if the afterparty happens in your classroom, you can do whatever you want. ;)"

"You're more than welcome to come and see for yourself what a celebration in Fhirdiad is truly like."

"I just might take you up on that sometime."

Dimitri's been eyeing that empty bottle Claude has in hand for a while now, but is interrupted from asking when other students begin to enter and each one receives progressively more enthusiastic greetings (Claude insists on welcoming them all to the Golden Deer Party Fort). Dimitri gives them a small wave, and gestures towards this odd arrangement-nest of pillows and cushions in the center of the room.

Claude pulls off his boots and tosses them haphazardly against a wall. Having been caught outside in the downpour earlier that night, he changed out of his dripping wet dress uniform back into his normal one before coming over here to set up; but he didn't bother fixing his hair, which is still damp and messy. His hair's so thick--it takes forever to dry. "Take a load off, Dimitri, the pillows are for sitting on."

"Yes, clearly." Still, Dimitri complies suddenly as if he really didn't know, and is now seated kind of awkwardly on a pillow.

Claude gets a drink for himself and one for Hilda before he sits down next to Dimitri, leaving a pillow open on his other side for her and putting both drinks down carefully on the floor. Now that they're just waiting for everyone else--including Hilda herself--to arrive, he idly fiddles with the empty bottle in front of him.

Dimitri, sitting this close, finds there isn't a way he can't comment any longer. "What... exactly do you intend to do with that?" It's whispered, though with all these disparate conversations going on he doubts anyone else is listening anyway.

 _Why is Dimitri whispering?_ Claude leans closer to whisper back: "It's a game Hilda suggested. It's called 'spin the bottle,' apparently."

Perhaps it's the sheltered life making him ignorant, but Dimitri can't recall ever hearing about a game of that name... he knits his brows. "Hopefully more interesting than the name implies?"

"Oh, you'll see. ;)"

Dimitri isn't sure he wants to know, now. He elects not to comment, and instead fetches a drink of his own before leaning in slightly to this circle of students they're swiftly gathering. Soon, the circle is full and so is the rest of the room. After a few more minutes of idle conversation and people passing drinks around, Dimitri raises his voice a little to ask, "Claude, would you describe this game you're having us play?"

"You got it, Your Princeliness." Claude raises his voice, too. "Okay, everybody, listen up. Hilda has been gracious enough to introduce us to a game she calls: spin the bottle." He indicates: The Bottle. "It's simple. The bottle goes in the middle of the circle. We take turns spinning it. Whoever it lands on when it's your turn, you kiss." He holds up a hand to forestall protests, although a wave of chatter breaks out anyway. "Now, I know what some of you are thinking. Don't worry. It can be any kind of kiss you want. Hand, cheek, lips--whatever floats your boat."

 _Oh. That-- oh._ Dimitri doesn't seem to have much to say on this, but to his credit... he isn't fleeing.

"As the head of house for the Golden Deer," Claude continues, "and thus the host of this little get-together, I volunteer to go first. If there are no objections?"

"I have no objections," Dimitri replies, and a series of affirmatives around the circle follows.

"Here goes..." Claude places the bottle in the middle of the circle and spins! It slows...and stops... pointing at Dimitri right next to him. Somehow, Dimitri can't help but think already that Claude's done something to rig this. The look on his face is something between amusement and a near-grim acceptance of his fate.

Claude laughs. "Well! I can't argue with the gods of fate, can I?" He turns to Dimitri and gives him as formal a bow as is possible sitting on a pile of pillows. "May I, Your Highness?"

In spite of himself, something in that theatrical little performance has Dimitri huffing a laugh, too. "I suppose it's out of my hands, is it not?"

"I suppose it is." Claude lifts a hand to tilt Dimitri's head down just a fraction and goes for it--a full-on kiss on the lips for His Royal Highness. Enthusiastic, no less.

Outside of a moment of awkwardness, it appears that the prince did mean it when he mentioned simply going with it. When they do eventually part, he gives Claude... something of a quizzical little look. "Well."

"Well?" Claude doesn't back away immediately, grinning instead.

"Somehow, you managed to be a better kisser than I anticipated." Which is considerable, considering that Dimitri definitely hadn't assumed he'd be anything less than good at it. After that, he might need a moment...so he's glad when Claude passes the bottle on to Hilda rather than to him.

"Well, Dimitri, anytime you'd like to give it another go..." Claude winks as Hilda takes her turn, and the room erupts into laughter and "oooh"ing as the bottle lands on Lorenz.

Dimitri feels like this can only go downhill from here on. At least things started out strong for _him_. "... would... is it a thing to spin again...?"

"...we salute your sacrifice, Hilda." Claude salutes her, then bursts out laughing.

Dimitri accepts that Claude has a better understanding of the rules than he does. He grimaces, and bows his head to Hilda in a show of respect. "Claude, how can you laugh at the demise of a comrade--of a friend?"

"Hey, she knew what she was signing up for. This was her idea!"

"I suppose, but..."

Claude holds Hilda's drink for her while sipping his own, as she goes to get it over with as quickly as possible and returns just as quickly. "Truly, we are in the presence of a hero." He clinks his glass against Hilda's and drains it.

The longer the game goes on, the more inebriated everyone becomes. And the more inebriated everyone becomes, the more their many eccentric personalities and various teen dramas clash and spark. Arguments over everything ranging from Dimitri getting voted King of the Ball to Imperial politics to whether or not certain people should be cut off and sent back to their dorms punctuate what is otherwise a pretty fun game, Claude has to admit. When he notices that Dimitri is starting to regard them all with a long-suffering exasperation, he leans over to ask quietly, "Want me to fill your cup, Your Royalness?"

"If I'm honest, I would need far more, but I appreciate your concern, Claude." Dimitri reaches over to go for something he'd seen Hilda do earlier, ruffling Claude's hair affectionately.

Claude's started on the steady slide to getting drunk, and wasn't expecting that out of the prince at all. He...doesn't hate it, and he can feel his face getting warm. "Gotta start somewhere," he replies, getting up to fill Dimitri's cup and bringing it back. He presents it to the other boy with a little bow, which earns him a genuine snort of amusement as Dimitri accepts the glass without a fuss...though it takes serious restraint not to just down that, as well.

Someone else on the other side of the circle ends up spinning Claude, and he thinks nothing of it when they ask him to go to them instead of the other way around. And in the end it turns out to be nothing but a harmless bit of fun--another classmate moving to tickle him or tackle him or something, while he's occupied with kissing the bottle-spinner--but with his reactions dulled by alcohol and his instincts honed by a lifetime of expecting trouble, he only barely manages to casually laugh it off after he practically rolls away from the ambush and has half-reached for the dagger he keeps hidden in his jacket, prompting cries of "wow, Claude, what's gotten into you?" and "watch it, you almost spilled my drink!" and "what the hell are you doing?" He says something flippant, wearing his easy smile, and soon everyone has moved on, but...

The whole point of cultivating this carefully nonchalant, easygoing persona was to prevent obvious tells like that. Everyone at Garreg Mach knows by now that Claude has secrets, and where they can't pry them out of him, they're not afraid to make something up and pass it off as truth in rumor form. That's why everything he says and everything he does is carefully calculated. The smallest thing could confirm or deny a rumor he hasn't even heard to someone watching or listening. Anyone who noticed that little slip-up, the exposure of the part of him that's always wound tight looking for signs that someone knows who he really is or is after his blood, might put it together with whatever they've heard to form a picture that won't do him any favors, true or not. He's not sure how well he hides the brief stab of panic in his eyes as he clambers back over the pillows to his seat and Dimitri hands his drink back to him. At least the only person close enough to notice is probably Dimitri himself... "...thanks," he mutters, taking the glass gratefully.

Dimitri notices, and hesitates, wondering if he ought to ask... but only nods minutely, gingerly nudging Claude's side once he's returned to his pillow.

Claude glances around for a moment more, trying to gauge whether anyone is watching him more closely now or anything. Doesn't seem like it... _You need to calm down, Claude._ At the nudge, he turns to look at Dimitri again. "Hm?"

"Be careful with that." A nod to his drink—Dimitri took the liberty of refilling with his own bottle that he's been working away at, a tad... stronger, to say the least. Still, the quirk of his eyebrow is far subtler.

Claude looks Dimitri in the eye for a moment...odd, he feels like he can hear the prince asking a question even though he's not saying anything. He takes a slow breath and lets it out, giving Dimitri a small, grateful smile and a subtle nod. He takes a long pull from the drink Dimitri refilled for him--oh, yep, that's stronger, all right. "Okay, whose turn is it?"

"Oh!" says Flayn, turning from the lively conversation she's having with Caspar. "It is mine!"

 _What is Flayn even doing here?_ Claude thinks. _Seteth's going to kill me when he finds out who hosted the drunken debauchery his sister's attending..._ He keeps working on that glass Dimitri handed him as Flayn takes her turn, followed by Leonie and a few others. Maybe if he drinks enough, he'll forget he had anything to feel lingering anxiety about. "Hey, I thought Edelgard was coming," he says to Dimitri, after a moment.

"Mm, she said she was, though perhaps she got tired and went to bed..." Dimitri chuckles. "Did you only now notice?"

"Maybe I did and maybe I didn't." He can tell now that he's starting to really feel it, because that was terrible. "....okay yeah, I did. In my defense, there's a lot going on here."

"In hindsight, it's... probably for the best that she doesn't join us, this time." Dear Goddess, he really doesn't want to think about her being in this circle. What a horrific thought.

"You really think so? I was hoping the three of us could spend some quality time together."

"Any quality time we spend with her is best not under the influence."

Claude thinks back to all the times Edelgard's scolded him. "...she's pretty ruthless, I'll give you that. I guess there's no way of knowing, though. Maybe we should give her the benefit of the--" Someone calls his name, and when he looks over, the bottle's pointing at him again. His eyes slide up from it to the person who spun it. ...Lorenz.

Dimitri glances between Claude and the bottle, with clear apprehension. A gentle hand finds Claude’s shoulder. "Even when I ascend the throne, your sacrifice will be remembered."

"..." Claude starts laughing and can't fully stop. "Okay, Lorenz. Let's go." He doesn't wait for Lorenz to come to him, instead climbing over the pillows himself. At Lorenz's protests, he shakes his head, wagging a finger. "No no, the bottle has spoken. We are in this together, you and I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. Fulfill your noble obligation to show this oafish upstart how a true noble should act!" In the face of all this, Lorenz scowls and can barely manage to give Claude a peck on the cheek, before Claude falls back against the pillows and laughs enough for tears to gather in his eyes.

All Dimitri can do is finish off his glass.

The game moves on once more, as Claude crawls back to his seat and gradually stops laughing, draining his own glass soon after. "Hey Dimitri, do you have more of whatever you put in here?"

"For you? Of course." Mostly because Dimitri doesn't know that anyone else here could handle it as well as he.

Claude hands Dimitri his glass and lets him fill it. "You are a gentleman and a scholar."

Someone pushes the bottle in front of Dimitri, who looks down at it. "I... suppose that is me, then."

Claude grins at him. "Go for it, Your Princeliness."

The prince (carefully) takes the bottle and (carefully) spins it... and somehow seems quick to resign himself to his fate, once it stops on Claude. He turns to the Deer leader, amusement clear. "If I'm honest, perhaps you're simply lucky. Given all that's going on, I hope to be something of a palate cleanser for you."

Claude blinks, seeing the bottle spin under Dimitri's hand and then land on him. He grins, as the prince leans close and takes Claude's chin under his thumb, a laugh on his breath, to kiss him again. Claude leans into the kiss and does his best to make it a good one. To impress him again. Only the best for His Highness. And Claude...is not the first to break this one. His hand wanders up to Dimitri's shoulder, and then into his hair.

 _Ah. So that's how he's going to play this._ In that case, then, Dimitri is quick to retaliate with a hand against his nape, and a gentle tug on his hair change the angle of their- wait. Dedue is in the room. He... definitely didn't forget. He's the first to pull away, for now, but not without a graze of teeth on Claude's lower lip and the most innocent of expressions afterwards.

Claude looks up at Dimitri's so-called innocent expression with a smirk. Maybe no one else noticed, but Claude obviously did. "...I'd say that was more than a palate cleanser. ;)" And now it's back to his turn--they've come full circle. He reaches over to spin the bottle quickly, and stares at it for a moment when it... lands on Dimitri. "...no maybe about it, I _am_ lucky."

At this point, Dimitri thinks he ought to not even bother picking his drink back up. An immediate shot for revenge? He'll take up that offer, gladly. Claude turns back to face him, inching closer on the pillow before reaching up to slide his fingers into Dimitri's hair and claim yet another kiss.

 _Yes, right. Where was I–-_ The thread of fingers through hair–-the fingers splayed against his nape, and that perfect angle–-alright. Dimitri keeps this kiss shorter than the last, painfully aware of the swiftly degenerating goings-on around them, as much as he would like to ignore it all; though he manages to sneak in more than a little tongue once he decides to refuse to acknowledge there is _at least one person watching._ No, that thought didn't ruin it at all, but he still parts with one, two, three lingering kisses that taper into a deep breath. "... lucky indeed."

Claude's impressed by the way Dimitri so easily slips back into sync with where they were a moment ago, as though there were no interruption, and impressed again when the prince is bold enough to up the stakes. He's distracted enough by these lingering kisses that he almost forgets there are people watching...almost. He might have managed it if some of those people weren't clearly getting annoyed with the two house leaders for blatantly ignoring the rest of the room for practically the whole party, and for not helping with the process of escorting the students who have, at this point, _definitely_ had enough to drink back to the dorms. As it is, he doesn't plan to end this kiss first, either. Then Dimitri finally pulls back, leaving Claude to lick his lips once as he catches his breath. "...you got that right." _He wins this round, damn._

Dimitri keeps his voice carefully low, not difficult with how close they are, and doesn't even bother taking his hand from the back of Claude's neck. "Looking at this room, we may be... pushing it." As if there isn't still clear amusement in his tone.

"Is that right?" Claude's voice is just as low. "You don't seem to mind, Your Highness."

"Admittedly? You aren't wrong."

"I didn't think so."

Dimitri glances around to see that a lot more people seem to be leaving, now; the game is clearly over. "While I would love nothing more than continuing, it appears the after party is falling apart around us."

Claude closes his eyes briefly with a faint sigh, not actually wanting to shift his attention to anyone else in the room. "Would it be irresponsible of me to say, let it?" He can hear the word echo in his mind, a word people have used to describe him many times even when the 'responsibilities' they expect him to fulfill are pointless: bits of Fodlan etiquette he didn't even know about, or praying to a Goddess every day that he doesn't even believe in, or--longer ago, now--challenging people bigger and stronger than him to fights he doesn't want to have and can't win...

"Well..." Dimitri says, drawing Claude back out of his reverie, "to your credit, I don't believe you're paid to babysit, frankly." He's slow to stand, taking a moment to roll his shoulders, loosen up some, before extending Claude a patient helping hand.

Claude chuckles, keeping his eyes on Dimitri the whole time, and takes the prince's hand to pull himself to his feet. Dimitri's right. None of the expectations anyone had tonight were anything he was responsible for. All he did was supply the classroom and spread the word, and that was all he had to do. The scare he gave himself earlier hasn't fully worked its way out of his system, either, but it's nice and dulled under layers of pleasant inebriation and Dimitri's handsome smile and mesmerizing blue eyes. "I have to admit, I didn't expect to enjoy your company as much as I have been. ...Also, you're taller than I thought."

Dimitri laughs. "Then I'm glad I could exceed your expectations... in both ways."

"Heh. You should laugh more often. I'm not sure I've heard you do it before tonight, actually."

"No? That's odd. I find it comes quite easily around you." He nudges the toe of his boot beneath the bottle at his feet—and sends it jumping upward, right into his grasp. The other hand hasn't let go of Claude. "Far easier than most others."

"Oh?" Claude hopes the heat in his cheeks isn't obvious, as he laughs a bit himself, watching Dimitri shows off with the bottle. The prince is winning...definitely. How can he retaliate? "Surely you're not leaving already? You've barely even gotten the tour of our humble abode." He gestures around at the Golden Deer classroom with the hand that isn't still clasped in Dimitri's.

"Leaving? Certainly not." As much as Claude gestures, Dimitri's gaze flickers back to him after only a brief moment. "Not before I take you up on such a generous offer."

"Ah, in that case, I would be honored to escort you, Your Regalness." He bows slightly without taking his eyes away from Dimitri's, bringing the prince's hand lightly to his lips before offering his arm.

Okay. Dimitri will admit, he's good. Funny, and good. He accepts without hesitation and sets the bottle aside on the professor's desk, hopefully out of range of any lingering students...

Claude takes Dimitri on a little walk around the classroom, not that there's a whole lot to see, honestly. It's...a classroom, same as the Blue Lions' one, more or less. But with the pillow fort spread all over the place...he can work with that. "Here," he says, indicating a little pile of pillows in the corner, "is the stalwart Golden Deer bunker against the slings and arrows of the cruel world." He leads Dimitri a few more steps, toward the chalkboard. "And here is where yours truly, master tactician, draws up his infamous schemes. ;)"

The prince is ever so obliging along this tour, nodding along, popping in with a question or two when he's of a mind ('really? This is the very desk where the Master Tactician himself hones his skills and knowledge? I got a chill, just now.')

Claude's grin never fades, as he plays along with Dimitri's questions and commentary ('if only you knew the true wonders this desk's merely mundane appearance hides...ah, but the Master Tactician won't give up his secrets so easily, not even to a prince as gracious as yourself').

Then Claude takes Dimitri the rest of the way across the room, into the other corner. "And this is the Secret Corner, where whatever happens remains just between whoever's standing here." His eyes twinkle with mischief.

Ah. The Secret Corner. And it becomes painfully obvious Claude's scheming, if it somehow weren't before. "Mm... I see, I see. Who could have known the Golden Deer classroom contained so much?" And he looks to Claude, head cocked just so. "Now you have me quite curious about this secret corner..."

"Ah, I _thought_ that might get your attention. Yes, it's true, we Golden Deer are much more than we appear. We contain multitudes." He moves fully into the corner, slipping his arm out of Dimitri's only to rest his hands on the prince's waist... _he really is the perfect height for this, isn't he?_...and to back into the corner, pulling Dimitri with him. "And in the Secret Corner, you may even discover one or two of them for yourself." He reaches up to tug Dimitri down by his collar and pull him into a kiss.

Dimitri's quick to play along, and only partially because he's finally feeling all that alcohol he drank. He feels hands settle on his waist and steer him, blocking Claude into the corner; a hand rises to brace against the wall beside Claude's head and, luckily, stops them from banging heads when he's pulled into another kiss.

"You know--" a murmur between kisses, "I didn't... imagine... this night going this way--" The hand on the wall lowers to sink into Claude's hair instead, gently guiding their angle into something different, _deeper_ , and holding Claude there when he finally breaks for a breath of air, tongue swiping against Claude's lip. "--but I could hardly complain."

Claude follows Dimitri's lead easily, which may or may not be surprising for the prince given Claude's usual behavior; lets him deepen the kisses and set the pace, though he is certainly more than okay with that pace. As Dimitri's hand lowers into his hair, his own hands slide up from the prince's waist to his back to pull him closer, further trapping himself in the corner. He doesn't respond until the pause for breath, looking up at Dimitri with a lidded look and a lazy grin. "I gotta say...as surprises go, this one takes the cake." He's hyperaware of Dimitri's hand still in his hair, the prince's close proximity...he's starting to feel very warm. "How are you enjoying the Secret Corner so far, Your Highness?" His fingers toy with Dimitri's hair as he speaks.

"I must say... quite charmed." Claude's shift doesn't go unnoticed, though before the prince can think to make any witty remark about his enthusiasm, Claude sways and stumbles, his usual grace eluding him as he clumsily catches himself against the wall at his back. Dimitri steadies him with a strong hand and says...something, but all this warmth and all these lovely sensations have made him so sleepy...and now that Dimitri's tongue isn't actively in his mouth, he's starting to succumb to it. He pats Dimitri's broad chest with one hand and mutters something about how all those stories with Prince Charming in them should have had Prince Dimitri instead, because he's way more charming...

It's not until the next day, when Claude wakes to sunshine that is entirely too bright streaming through his window at a decidedly afternoon-ish hour, that he realizes that Dimitri must have taken him home. Huh. How about that. Charming _and_ a perfect gentleman. ...he rolls over and plants his pillow on top of his head. He's going to get so much shit for last night, isn't he...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the going gets tough, Claude von Riegan has always thought it wisest to run away from it. In the aftermath of the party, which has proven to be a little disastrous for his social life, he prepares to do just that; but Dimitri surprises him once again.

Usually, Claude isn't a big fan of overcast skies. During the day, he likes to bask in the sunshine. At night, he likes to gaze up at the stars. But tonight, he's glad for the cloud cover. It means the wyvern will be much harder to see.

He's dragging his feet a little, he knows. He reached the wyvern roost ten minutes ago. He could have been aloft already with no one the wiser. But though the beast is saddled and ready, though his bag is packed and waiting, he's sitting here on the ground with a sheet of parchment spread across his lap and a quill in hand. Trying to figure out what he can possibly say to Teach, and to Hilda, by way of farewell.

To say the White Heron afterparty has complicated things would be an understatement. For one thing, Hilda's upset with him on behalf of the other students for whom he was a poor co-host and the resulting discomfort they experienced at the party. Students such as the other Lions, especially Dedue, who have been awkward around Claude since then. And most of the Deer, especially Lorenz, who have chastised him repeatedly over the last few days for making a fool of himself and, by extension, their whole class. And Edelgard, who was furious that her fellow house leaders would show such a lack of tact or restraint and act like foolish children.

And _Ferdinand_ , of all people, who was scandalized about the whole thing and vocally blamed Claude for 'tainting the Academy's reputation as a distinguished school for nobles and those aspiring to be like them' (Claude somehow managed to get out of that conversation without throttling the man). And, as he predicted, Seteth somehow heard about the party and heard that Flayn was there, and definitely blamed Claude for hosting it instead of Flayn for attending. And on top of all that, the rumor mill--which even at the best of times is full of backhanded compliments and baseless assumptions about him--is having an absolute field day coming up with all the underhanded ways they believe Claude, that shifty schemer who claims to be the heir to House Riegan _but who really knows_ , tricked the wholesome Prince of Faerghus into drunken debauchery. That was the last straw: the idea that Dimitri might overhear a rumor like that and believe it. That _he_ might think Claude was after something other than companionship, that he rigged the game somehow or something.

That was when he decided to give up on the Academy. Coming here was always a gamble, he knows that. Being in an enclosed environment where the security isn't on his grandfather's payroll and where no one's assigned to taste-test Claude's food or watch his back? (Not that he wanted anyone to be.) Plenty dangerous. And coming into close daily contact with all these heirs to important political positions and having to hide so much of himself from them day in and day out, knowing that all the while he'd be fighting an uphill battle on multiple levels just to fit in, that he'd never belong here...right from the start, there was every possibility that this would go south. He made contingency plans for that very possibility. He'll go back to Derdriu, learn the rest of what he needs to know to inherit the dukedom from personal tutors and city schools, solidify political alliances through shadowing the duke to every meeting and attending all the elite parties he can...he can make it work. He'll have to.

* * *

Tonight, Dimitri's brooding has taken him to the stables, and the wyvern roost beyond them.

It's a bit of an inappropriate place to go, given the chance of accidentally spooking an animal and waking someone up. But the prince figured the beasts wouldn't be very active in such weather, and so he wasn't expecting to find another figure lingering there either.

"Claude?" It's soft, more to himself than the other; when he draws closer and is able to recognize him in the low light, he can't help but smile, minutely, pained. Perhaps this is an opportune moment to apologize to him, though he seems... busy. He deigns to make his steps louder, more obvious, and approaches him. "Claude... I wasn't expecting to see you here. Are you... alright?"

Claude's head snaps up at the sound of footsteps, halting the hesitant scratching of his quill. He squints a little in the dim light, his heart sinking; did Hilda or Teach come looking for him? But no...he recognizes the bright blue cape and the faint light shining on blond hair. He blinks. "...Dimitri? What are you doing here?" He sure does avoid that question.

"I... came for the same reasons you did, I suspect." Dimitri stands in awkward silence for a moment, unsure of what to do with his hands, his face, himself at all, before hesitant eyes drift to the parchment Claude cradles in his lap. "I wished to find some time for myself, but... if I may use this time to apologize to you, then I suppose it's all the better."

Claude resists the urge to glance over his shoulder at the saddled wyvern behind him. _Definitely not the same reasons._ "Apologize? Are you kidding? If anything, _I_ should be apologizing to _you_. Though even Your Princeliness will have to get in line; I've spent the whole day apologizing to people and barely scratched the surface." He tries to smirk to turn this into a joke, but fails miserably.

Dimitri shakes his head—it must have bothered Claude, for even his normal good spirits to be absent now. "No, I must. At even the most basic of levels, I should have acted with more restraint, knowing you were... inebriated. And... I should not have let my own enjoyment dictate my actions in that way. I did not even stop to consider the consequences for you, or for your house... for that, I am more sorry than anything."

"...if you insist--apology accepted." Claude puts down his quill and leans his head back against the stable door. "...so you're saying you _did_ enjoy last night?" His grin is hesitant, but a hint of his usual demeanor sneaks in.

"I will admit, especially in hindsight, it feels... like an awful thing for me to have enjoyed it. But I did." The prince's voice is no more than a murmur, though more from embarrassment, now, than shame. His arms lift, hugging himself loosely, as he leans against a stable post. "I'm not so dishonest as to deny that. And I mean it when I say that, truly, my regret lies in what my actions did. What they resulted in. But... if one were to ask me, I couldn't say that I regret... _kissing_ you."

Hearing Dimitri say it out loud--emphasize it, even--brings a faint flush to Claude's cheeks, though he doubts it's visible (hopes it isn't) in the dark. "Then that's something else we agree on." He watches Dimitri for a moment. Before, he always thought the prince of Faerghus was naive, dangerously so. Too earnest for his own good. Over the past few weeks, though, ever since the chaos started in the wake of the attack and the three house leaders agreed to work together in secret to find out what the Church must be hiding from them, he's come to prize Dimitri's attitude highly. His honesty, to a fault; his quiet compassion; his willingness to put differences aside for a common good. "I didn't get a chance to thank you, for being there last night. During..." He fishes for a way to say this that doesn't sound ridiculous. "After the ambush thing. So, thanks."

"Of course. I didn't wish to butt into your business, but I did want you to know... that if you ever need someone to confide in, you will receive no judgment from me." Something in this conversation – or perhaps the mere fact that Claude forgave him, perhaps never really held him at fault – brings a warmth that settles deep in the pit of his chest and Dimitri can't help but smile, now, far more openly than he did a moment ago. "...I'll be honest. I can't help but be afraid." Afraid that Dedue and the others will think him a victim of some kind of malicious scheme, or that he'll cause a political incident if he handles the fallout the wrong way. "But I know I must push on, regardless."

There's something in Dimitri's smile that makes it difficult to doubt his sincerity, and Claude feels no trace of the disdain he might have harbored a few months ago. Instead, he finds his resolve to leave...wavering. Strange. They don't know each other very well at all, so why does Claude feel like he really _could_ confide in Dimitri and not regret it? Not everything, obviously. Not the really important stuff. But the idea of sharing his troubles with someone sympathetic and without presumption, someone with Dimitri's kind eyes and discreet words and soft voice...the thought appeals to him.

"...that's what I like about you, Dimitri." Maybe surprisingly, there's no sarcasm here. "Not many people have the kind of true courage you have." He stands up, looking down at his halfhearted attempt to write a farewell letter, and then rolls it up and stuffs it in a pocket. "Certainly not me. ...I'll be honest, too. I didn't just come out here to find some solitude. ...I was thinking about...leaving."

The prince won't deny being fazed by such a statement. It manifests in the briefest lift of a brow, a tilt of the head; for a moment he's merely pondering in silence, and takes a second to truly absorb Claude, his expression, his posture. "You would return to the Alliance?" For such a sudden departure... the Deer must have been harder on him than Dimitri initially suspected they would. He hesitates, though eventually moves, joins Claude on the ground with legs crossed. "You said that you've spent all day apologizing. Does that mean... you've spoken to Hilda, I assume?"

He watches Dimitri sit down just as he's standing up and chuckles, dropping back down to sit beside the prince. ...again. It's fascinating to him how much Dimitri manages to convey with such small, subtle expressions. "To Derdriu, yeah." _For now, anyway._ Then he sighs. "You assume correctly. Though I also had to endure a bunch of lectures. And ranting from Ferdinand, who's very upset for some reason. And Edelgard, who I thought was going to take my head off right there in the dining hall."

"It's to be expected." A soft huff of a laugh, and an apologetic look, both at this and at his own indecision. "As I said earlier, I don't wish to butt into your business, but did it... truly go so badly?"

"It wasn't that bad with Hilda. Things got a little dicey, but in the end, she was mostly just upset that I abandoned her to do all the work. And you know...everything else." He gestures with a hand, as if to encompass a world of vague consequences. "But stepping into the classroom hung over to the tune of Leonie, Lorenz, and Lysithea scolding me like I'd sold the Deer out to some demon, and then wandering into the dining hall to find half the Black Eagles chatting casually about potential assassination plots, 'if I should prove to have ill intentions for their house leader'? And having a whole new crop of people staring at me on the way back to the dorms, muttering about how Seteth's probably going to expel me for some scandal involving Flayn? That was less fun."

"They-- did that to you?" _So it... it truly is that bad._ Dimitri never would've imagined... now, when his features twist, it's in remorse. "They blame you for what happened, truly? I... don't understand." If it really is so severe, something dark in his mind remarks, then he will be speaking to Edelgard on this matter. He takes a moment, and wills his thoughts to quiet. 

"That kind of thing is nothing new." Claude tries to sound casual about this, but it's harder today than usual. "People talk about me behind my back wherever I go, and sometimes they don't even bother to wait until I pass by. I'm sure you've heard them, too." _Maybe you haven't heard the death threats before, but that's not new, either._

Dimitri... almost doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know if he can claim to have heard much, because while he most certainly has heard others speak of Claude when he isn't present, it usually is... Well. It's usually something inappropriate. He almost can't imagine what sorts of things Claude might mean... but Dimitri is familiar with the kinds of things others can say when confident they will never reach the target. He nods, solemn. "I won't claim not to understand their concern. But there comes a point... Where you do more harm than good." A lesson he has learned, painfully, thoroughly, by this point. "Knowing you the way that I do, Claude, leads me to believe you hardly ever act without reason. I wouldn't think these circumstances to be any different."

Claude glances over in some surprise, at Dimitri's talk of knowing him. "What makes you say that?" But the most likely answer comes to him, in a moment. "Ah. You mean, because Claude the Schemer doesn't do anything without a secret plan, right?"

 _Schemer?_ "I know that it hasn't been long, but having seen and heard of your exploits in battle, you seem... fiercely intelligent." Dimitri's eyes cast to the sky, and the dark clouds still lingering above. "You seem like you always know what to do, in a way. Always so confident. As if everything could come so easily to you. Even if it isn't entirely true, you're at the least a very good actor." But he still seems so genuine in it, though, and that's what gets Dimitri. "I can only wonder what that would be like. To see your goal... and know what you will do to obtain it. It sounds so simple, put that way, but such grace usually eludes me."

Claude blinks, feeling his face heat up again, close enough this time that Dimitri might notice. "Hey, you're no slouch on the battlefield yourself, Your Highness. I've seen the way the Blue Lions work so seamlessly together, and that's your doing--I distinctly remember having to plan around it for the first mock battle. I mean, you could inspire people just by standing there and looking regal and handsome, heh. So when you really get going out there, it's truly a sight to behold."

"Ah, you really speak too highly of me. I would say that such a thing is merely my title preceding me, at least outside of the Lions... even within the house, you could say that such is the synergy that comes from those who've grown up together. We learned to fight together, or most of us, that is." Dimitri hopes, nearly prays, that the less-than-stellar lighting here helps to hide the blush on his cheeks, though the prince doubts he could have such luck...

"Take the compliment, Dimitri, I'm handing it out for free. This time." Claude glances over and grins, then becomes thoughtful. "Huh, growing up with a close group like that and still being together years later...it must really be something." _Is Dimitri blushing too? What is going on..._ He looks up at the sky, too. "As for knowing what to do...it's true, I'm a goal-oriented kind of guy." He twirls the quill in his hand as though it were an arrow, idly. "But sometimes, I would give anything to quiet my mind. To not feel like I _have_ to plan for every contingency all the time."

"I suppose there isn't an advantage that doesn't come with its consequences." And he can feel for Claude, truly; Dimitri has no doubt that were he blessed with that sort of fortitude, he would end up in much the same state. He already overthinks as it is.

"Too true, every silver lining comes with a dark cloud."

"It's almost amusing in some way. You and I are nearly polar opposites, in that regard... still, were I to find you the leader above me, I could not complain."

Claude's eyebrows lift and the corners of his lips quirk up into a smirk. "Is that so? The crown prince of Faerghus would really take orders from me? In that case, I hear classroom transfers don't take that much paperwork...if you hurry, you can get it in before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. ;)"

"Hmm... I don't know, Claude. If anything, I feel I should be offering to allow _you_ to transfer to _our_ class. You did wish to see what parties in Faerghus are like. I don't know what image you've conjured up in your head of it, but I promise it wouldn't disappoint."

"You promise, huh? I don't know, I have a pretty vivid imagination. But if your ability to hold your liquor is any indication, maybe you're right--maybe I'll just have to see it for myself." Claude snorts a little, half-laugh and half-rueful sound. "Besides, at this point most of the Deer would probably prefer it if I did."

"If they truly do, then they're fools." He could so easily launch into some tangent about how good a house leader he is, how they would be blind not to see the value in him both as their leader and as a person. Dimitri thinks, though, that by now his respect for Claude is apparent... and he wouldn't want his compliments to sound disingenuous, so it's just as well. It takes him some time to find the words, once he falls back into silence. His gaze lowers to the dirt before them and Dimitri sucks in a breath through the nose, forces it back out through his lips. "Claude. I won't attempt to stop you from leaving, if you truly believe that's what would be best for you. I do wish to ask, though... can you think of no other way?"

Dimitri's blunt statement in his defense stuns Claude into silence for a moment, too, leaving them both quiet until Dimitri speaks up again. When he does, Claude shifts to turn and sit facing him instead of beside him. "...you don't think I should leave?" He's not teasing, but he's not quite dead serious either. Some neutral medium between the two.

Dimitri shakes his head. It's an honest question, but if it wouldn't trivialize whatever this conflict of his truly is, then Dimitri thinks he might have blurted out how obvious it is, how natural it is. How he could never think Claude should leave. "I don't. Given everything you've told me here, it's clear that this isn't merely about what transpired last night. But I do believe... there are few people I've met in my life who have the strength to overcome adversity, regardless of what form it may take. You remind me of those people, Claude. I would think... that even if you do need support, a shoulder to lean on now and again, that you could be one of those people someday if you aren't already."

Claude stares at Dimitri, absorbing his words and feeling his cheeks redden for the third time since this conversation began. "...you know, I grew up being told the most important thing was never to have to rely on anyone else. Fight my own battles. Otherwise, I'd end up weak." Some part of his mind reflects on the fact that, unlike even his most cordial conversation with Edelgard, talking with Dimitri has never once felt like a loaded game of chess. He has no worry at all that the prince might use anything he says against him, whether in a mock battle or in Fodlani politics. "I guess one of the ways I learned to do that was by running away when the going got tough. Live to scheme another day. Hearing you say what you just said...it means a lot, Dimitri. Thanks."

"Always." Half of Dimitri didn't expect Claude to accept such a compliment from him, and so his smile can only widen, once he's shown that his words are being taken seriously. If Claude really were to leave... he can't process it. He has a hard time, nigh-on impossible, imagining what Garreg Mach would be like without Claude in it. And what a silly sentiment it is, isn't it? After only so many months? After mere weeks of speaking to one another? "And, if it must be said... just remember that things can become better. You can _make_ them better--I would help, if you were to ask me."

'Always.' It's just a word, just something people say in response to gratitude, but...coming out of Dimitri's mouth, with that earnest smile, it sounds like it means more. It sounds more honest, more real. Claude has never given that much thought to whether he could, or should, be closer to Dimitri. They've been fellow house leaders, competitors; companions, perhaps, and allies now in conspiracy. But something happened last night, and he can't put his finger on what it was. ...or maybe it's _been_ happening, and he just hasn't noticed until now. "...can I ask you a question?" Again, that tone that is neither a tease nor too serious, something strangely anticipatory.

 _A question?_ Dimitri tilts his head, though is quick to nod. "I-- of course, go ahead."

"I don't know about you, but all day today I've had people asking me 'why.' Why did last night happen? Why did I do it? So...my question for you is, why did _you_ do it? What...exactly happened, last night?"

"Yes, I... have had much of the same. And quite some time to consider it. The Lions... they helped me to think through it all." Dimitri takes a moment to move himself; by the time he settles again on the dirt, he sits with his knees tucked close, chin resting atop. He doesn't look at Claude; this is, perhaps, the only part of this whole conversation he has been unsure about, thus far. "It was for me what it was for you at first, I assume. Merely a part of the game, you know? But... as I believe I've told you earlier, I won't lie about having enjoyed it. My friends are aware, though I know I've never made mention of my preference, I suppose, for men." This, he says with no such conflict. It isn't until these next thoughts enter his mind that hesitation begins to creep upon him. "It was because the game dictated it. And... it then became because I wished to. Keep doing it."

Claude wrestles down a chuckle before it can come out, at the thought that of everything they've talked about tonight...and done, the night before... _this_ is what gets Dimitri off his game. Polar opposites, huh? Maybe so. Outwardly, he just smiles. "I think I could have guessed that preference, after last night. ;)" Sitting cross-legged, he rests an elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand, studying Dimitri. "You're right--it was part of the game for me, at first. And then...it wasn't. ...usually, this is the part where people wonder, is Claude just messing with me?" He shrugs a bit. "Not that I can really blame them. But in this case...I'm not."

He fiddles with the quill in his other hand, twirling it between his fingers. "I know things are messy, right now. People are upset. But." He points the quill at Dimitri. "You've convinced me I should stay. Frankly, your raw courage is contagious. You make me want to face down those hardships. ...and since you offered..." He twirls the quill one last time and tucks it into his pocket, sitting back up. "I _would_ like you to face them with me. ...I'd like to get to know you better. I'd like us to stand by each other. ...and I'd like to kiss you again, sometime. Not tonight. ...but sometime soon. If that's okay with you."

Of course, Dimitri's initial reaction is embarrassment. Claude picks out that phrasing and needles him on it, as he expected, and Dimitri nearly ducks away out of habit, but. Claude continues. Explains himself, in turn. Some of this he'd assumed against his better judgment, but to hear that Claude, too, was sincere in this... the affirmation of these suspicions helps, in some odd way. Dimitri straightens, finally looks to Claude once more with brows raised, and the more he continues... the more the prince finds himself at a loss for words.

Is he hearing this right, truly? It takes him some time, some quiet moments of turning Claude's words over in his mind once more, waiting to find the point that he misunderstood, the phrase he didn't quite hear right and when he finds nothing... Dimitri looks away, now, with timidity curling his lips into a touched little smile. "I... will hold you to that, Claude." He nods, perhaps partially to himself; when he looks to Claude again, the warmth in his eyes is palpable, brimming. "We will figure this out. And... afterward, sometime, perhaps..."

Claude watches the changes in Dimitri's expression and posture as he talks, and his heart sinks to realize that Dimitri looks _surprised_. No doubt he did, in fact, think Claude was just messing with him. Using him as part of a scheme. But he waits, as the prince thinks about it. And when Dimitri averts his eyes with that small smile, it's hard to keep from letting the relief bubble up into pleased laughter. He suppresses it, not wanting Dimitri to think he'd laugh at him--the affection he feels in that moment is just difficult to rein in. He settles for a warm smile instead. _If I had a gold piece for every time someone said 'I'll hold you to that, Claude'_... But that look in the prince's eyes is enough to melt his sarcastic thoughts into a faint blush. "...yeah. Afterward." He hops to his feet and offers a hand to help Dimitri up.

Dimitri takes the offered hand with deliberate care, hoisting himself to his feet with that leverage. The clouds still linger above, darker now; it doesn't appear they'll be clearing before nightfall, unfortunately. A drop against his cheek all but confirms it. "I would say we ought to hurry inside before we get caught in this rain... but I suppose we really ought to get this wyvern settled, before someone finds all of this." Even after letting go, and feeling that faint heat still lingering through his gloves, his smile never falters. "Preferably... before we're soaked through to the bone?"

"...oh, right. The wyvern." Claude has the grace to look chagrined, as he glances up at he sky. "Again? Hilda _just_ fixed my hair..." But he doesn't sound all that concerned about the thought of getting caught in the rain with Dimitri; his only regret is that it's...wise, perhaps, not to give in to the urge to hold onto the prince's hand for longer. For now. He moves to hurry in undoing all the work he did, unsaddling the creature and putting everything back where it belongs.

Dimitri does what little he can to help, though Claude has most of it done by the time Dimitri has a good enough look around to be of use. The sprinkles give way to a more steady stream of rain; by the time the wyvern is back in its pen and the roost around it is as close to normal as can be, it's nearing something akin to a downpour, and Dimitri's sigh cuts the air. Being from Faerghus, he's no stranger to this kind of temperamental weather... though that never makes getting soaked any more pleasant for him. "It look as if we've been outpaced..."

"Talk about déjà vu..." But Claude's laughing, as he shoulders the backpack he packed his things in; for someone who wasn't planning to come back, he sure didn't pack a lot. "Listen, Your Princeliness, this is just one of those hardships we agreed to face together. Time to give it the ol' Faerghus try, right? ;)"

Sudden dread at existing aside, Claude's enthusiasm is at least partially infectious. Dimitri does stifle a snort behind a fist; far better than standing there in silence, moping and dreading the rain. "Then we'll do this the Faerghus way." When he takes Claude's wrist and drags him into the rain without warning, even through the rain and thunder, his laughter rings clear and bright--who would've known the Prince of Faerghus to laugh so freely?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Dimitri agree that it's best they keep their friendship just that, at least for the foreseeable future. That's what they tell themselves, anyway.

One of the Knights knocks on the open door of the Blue Lions classroom looking for Prince Dimitri, as she has a delivery for him. He isn't there, so she leaves behind a little basket covered with a cloth.

When he does enter the classroom and sees such a gift, he assumes it's something for the professor, until he sees... the addressee. The note reads:

> Hey, Your Princeliness,
> 
> Just wanted to send my thanks for reaching out and stopping me from doing something I would have regretted. Your courage is matched only by your compassion, and both are peerless. Teach is always bringing these doughnut things back from the village and I seem to remember that you really like cheese, so I thought I'd introduce you to the best of both worlds. Pretty good, right?  
>  Until next time,
> 
> -C
> 
> p.s. I could get used to doing things the Faerghus way. ;)

And inside the basket, Dimitri finds a supply of cheese danishes. By the time the other Blue Lions students come filtering in, there's the prince, sat at his desk in appreciative silence, enjoying the treats with a warmed smile.

* * *

After their headlong race through the rain, laughing like children and soaking wet by the time they got back to the dorms, Claude was regretting having said he wouldn't kiss Dimitri that night. He still thought that, objectively, it was the right decision, if he really was going to stick around. But he also thought he shouldn't give a damn about what anyone else at the monastery said about him. Unfortunately, neither of them have that kind of luxury; Claude alone is a noble twice over, and if he thought it would be bad for the rumors to get back to Derdriu, having them cross Fodlan's Throat would be ten times worse. Not to mention how aware he is that his own reputation could easily tarnish Dimitri's if they keep going with this, and he refuses to do that. Faerghus adores its prince, for good reason; he doesn't need Claude's messy circumstances and vague notoriety ruining that for him. No, he's got to go back to being friends with Dimitri and nothing more, for both their sakes. Let the rumors die down, wait until everyone forgets about the party...then, maybe, they can try a less contentious sort of courtship. Do it right next time. No drunken carousing or semi-public makeouts involved. (Fun as those were...)

So that was what they agreed upon, and when Claude sent that basket of danishes to the Lions' classroom, he intended it in that spirit. Just a friendly thank-you for a friendly gesture. Meaningful, certainly, but nothing he wouldn't have done for any of his other friends. (Although if it were any of his other friends, he would have been able to give the gift in person without risking a scandal...)

And then a few weeks passed. He saw Dimitri regularly during that time, and they managed to keep things platonic without too much trouble, although the looks Edelgard kept giving both of them every time they were in a room together told Claude he wasn't hiding the warmth of his smiles or the lingering glances as well as he'd thought. But he couldn't stop himself from continuing to send little notes to Dimitri over the course of those few weeks, even though they talked in person at least a little almost every day. There was something more intimate about writing him notes not meant for anyone else to read. Not that any of them were anything but companionable--Claude knows better than most how little privacy one can expect to have when delivering messages. Still, they _felt_ more meaningful for being more discreet, like a secret between just the two of them, and he liked that.

But eventually, it's no longer enough. He wants to _spend time_ with the prince--real time, not stolen lunch hours and excuses to chat while one or the other of them is on stable duty. He misses having Dimitri's undivided attention. Surely, two mature young men such as themselves could have a nice outing together without turning it into a date. Right?

* * *

The first thing he notices is the stars.

It isn't often Dimitri lingers outside in the dark of night, usually content to while away his hours either up in his room or in the training hall, should he really be having such trouble sleeping. They really are quite something, though, here at the monastery; even at night, the skies of Faerghus are usually clouded, hiding away those twinkling little lights... here, the moonlight is enough to guide him along the path, though it's those stars that manage to steal his attention the whole of his walk.

As he reaches the stables, the prince glances around. The note left for him at his room, sticking just far out enough from under his door to be noticeable, was written in such familiar penmanship that even without the 'C' in its signature, he would have recognized it immediately; the request almost seemed absurd but, knowing just who it came from, even Dimitri couldn't deny it.

Still, though. The prince can see his own breath, out here; he wonders vaguely if Claude is holding up well in this cold.

He's patient, giving Claude some time to arrive while he takes to petting idly at the only horse still awake and about at this hour. What Claude could possibly want or need from him that would require the 'privacy of the stables', as it'd been put to him... he can't begin to fathom.

Claude, for his part, is pleased to see that the sky is cooperating with his plans, as he makes his own way to the stables wearing all the cold-weather clothes the Knights provided earlier today when Alois took the Golden Deer students shopping in town. Gloves, scarf, heavy cloak. Winter at Garreg Mach might be freezing, but it's undeniably beautiful, too--lingering snow reflects the moonlight, giving everything a weird sort of glow he's never seen before.

The moonlight reflects from Dimitri's blond hair, too, as Claude approaches the stables and spots the prince there by the horses. "You got my message, I see."

"Ah-- Claude." He's mindful of his volume, but the prince doesn't dare restrain his smile. These past few weeks have been... something, for them. A lot of quiet moments, a lot of subtlety. Far too subtle for Dimitri's liking, mind you, but he's taken what he could get, leading up to this point. Sharing meals at the same table, knee-to-knee; soft smiles and half-waves when he should pass the Golden Deer classroom for, yes, the fifth time that day; settling in at the same table in the library, trading books, discussing quietly when no one else is around to be disturbed by them–-

Yes, well. That's what this outing is for, he supposes, right? A chance to... see one another without the need to hide, to be subtle. Dimitri yanks down his scarf, overly plush and far too warm for his liking.

"That I did... clearly. I can't say that I wasn't surprised to receive it, though: I didn't believe you would willingly subject yourself to this sort of weather." A glimmer of worry shines in his eyes, and the prince steps closer, observing carefully, wondering if Claude's current garments are warm enough for him...

It's a mixed blessing for Claude to have time alone with Dimitri like this after weeks of self-imposed half-measures and secret smiles shared across rooms. On the one hand, it's exactly what he's wanted since that night after the ball; on the other, seeing the prince's unabashed smile and the concerned look in his bright blue eyes and the way his moon-touched hair falls into his face...none of that is making it easier to commit to this being just...time spent with a friend.

He smirks at what he assumes to be teasing, despite the scrutiny. "Ordinarily, you'd be absolutely right. But tonight, there's not a cloud in the sky, which makes it perfect for what I had in mind." Claude looks chilly, but fine--for now, anyway. He knows it will be colder when they get into the air, but he'll worry about that when the time comes. "If Your Princeliness would care to step this way?" He offfers his arm to Dimitri, reminiscent of the way he did the same back in the Golden Deer classroom, the night of that party. Everyone else keeps calling that night a disaster, barely daring to speak of it, but his own memories of it are significantly fonder.

 _What he had in mind?_ Dimitri knows, now, better than to attempt to ask him outright; Claude adores giving surprises, and the prince is much better off simply waiting for that reveal. Still, it earns Claude a look, half amused and half bemused, as Dimitri takes that offered arm and interlocks his own with it. "I would hope this plot of yours is quite nice—normally I'm lying in bed and staring off into space, at this time of night. Important stuff, you know."

"Ah, yes, of course. I should have known I'd be competing with such crucial royal duties. I suppose we'll see whether both our sacrifices were worth it once we get there. ;)"

Claude leads them past the horses to the larger wyvern roost, and slips his arm back out of the prince's grasp when they reach the same pen where Dimitri found him the night after the ball. He sets about preparing the beast for flight once again, choosing the thickest, warmest blanket on which to cushion the saddle and getting everything buckled into place with a deft swiftness. Dimitri watches in silence, though the prince is still half in a state of disbelief... and telling himself not to make a joke about Claude trying to vanish again. That would be in horribly poor taste.

Finally, Claude hops down from securing the final buckle and comes back to take Dimitri by the hand and lead him to the wyvern's side. "You mentioned once that you'd never flown before. I thought you might like to change that."

When Claude returns to collect him, and confirms Dimitri's true suspicions, he still can't help but be surprised. "I didn't think that you would remember such a thing," he blurts without thought.

”This crafty brain of mine remembers everything.” _Especially things Dimitri says._ Claude doesn’t get nearly as much conversation time with the prince as he’d like, so he files everything away when he gets the chance.

"I... don't know how well I do with heights." What Dimitri doesn't say, though – that he would trust Claude to take care of him, regardless of circumstance – colors his cheeks red. He isn't objecting to the hand holding his, either. When they approach the wyvern, the prince seems unusually unsure; wyverns are wondrous creatures, beyond question, but the closest experience he has is with horses. Decidedly, ones that _don't_ fly.

“Well, here’s your chance to find out. And if you really don’t take well to the height, we’ll just stay low.” Dimitri’s hesitation with the beast reminds Claude of when he was a kid learning how to take care of the wyverns in the royal stables in Ostona. He’d thought then that his father’s wyvern might dislike and eat him, but getting his own soon after erased all fear from his mind. He wonders how Khalilah is getting along with the palace staff now...and wishes he could introduce her to Dimitri. She’s feisty, but personable. He drags his attention back to the animal before him instead.

"I've heard that... they can be quite selective, regarding the people they allow to mount them." Dimitri lifts a hand but holds it in mid-air, quickly rethinking his attempt to reach out to it.

“That’s true - many wyverns are temperamental beasts. Once you get to know them, though, they can be sweet as pie. And the training wyverns here are trained to take new riders easily, so you’ve got nothing to worry about from Maeve here.” Claude steps forward to stroke her huge snout with one gloved hand, murmuring a few comforting words to her and letting her take them both in with her gigantic eye, then tugs Dimitri closer to invite him to do the same. “Besides, I can’t imagine her turning _you_ down.” _If I were a wyvern, I’d let Dimitri...augh no, stop._

Claude approaches the wyvern with such ease—even knowing he's already become familiar with this one, Maeve, Dimitri can't help but be impressed. That kind of casual grace he commands... how envious the prince is, that animals must take to Claude's company so readily. He's hesitant, still, but he really has placed his trust in Claude, and so when the other man coaxes him close to the wyvern, he complies.

"Maeve... hello there," he says, voice kept carefully soft. A childlike wonder is in his eyes, in the curl of his smile, and he presses a cautious hand against her, petting along the long bridge of her snout. "I've always thought wyverns to be beautiful, but this is possibly the closest I've come to one... in Faerghus, the only mounts who can truly bear the climate are our draft horses." Were it a feasible move for him though...! If he could adjust to the heights, Dimitri thinks he would... certainly enjoy flying. "How sweet she is..."

Seeing Dimitri’s eyes shine with awe fills Claude with a warm satisfaction that he could bring this kind of joy to the prince. “I’ve heard about the famous Faerghan war horses. Surely, as the crown prince, you have one of your own?” He lets Dimitri take his time getting to know Maeve, waiting to mount up until he’s good and ready.

"Ah, I actually have several—just three, though. I'm told that's remarkably few, for a prince. Mm, but you would probably like them, Claude. Only one of them, Umbra, is a true warhorse, so Aramis and Phantasia are far more temperate in comparison." Dimitri seems to be satisfied, now that the wyvern allows him to pet her without shrinking from his touch. He looks to Claude, hands hovering before him. He supposes they ought to get to it; they don't have all the time in the world, unfortunately, before the sun will come up and their absences are noted... but he isn't quite, ah. Certain. Where to start?

Claude chuckles at ‘remarkably few’ - knowing Dimitri is right, of course, but in Almyra it’s more traditional to bond with one wyvern and share horses with the family. “I’d like to meet them someday.” At Dimitri’s questioning look, he nods and swings himself up into the saddle, sliding back to leave room for the prince to sit in front of him. Not only will that afford Dimitri the best view, but it will allow Claude to make him feel more secure in the saddle at high altitudes. ...the added bonus of getting to put his arms around Dimitri while handling the reins doesn’t hurt, either. He reaches down to give the other boy a hand up. “I’ll worry about directing her, you just hold onto the pommel.”

Dimitri watches Claude mount with practiced ease, and then eyes the gloved hand that reaches out to him. It probably isn't too difficult from mounting a horse, he supposes. Right? It looked similar enough when Claude did it. Dimitri steadies himself and takes that hand, swinging himself up into the saddle (and mindful not to jostle Claude off, too, or even worse to kick him) and settling with... more grace than he expected of himself. _It really is quite similar-- Ah._ He's... come to a realization, about this position of theirs. Dimitri silently wills away the warmth in his cheeks, and moves instead to do as he was told, finding a solid grip on the saddle. "Alright."

Claude reaches both arms around Dimitri to grab the reins, strongly aware of the prince’s warmth and proximity. He doesn’t linger, though, lifting them off the ground with a sharp nudge of his heels and a sudden rush of wind from the beating of the wyvern’s powerful wings. They climb in circles that grow wider with each turn, until they’re soaring high above the monastery. The snow below looks like a sparkling white ocean in the moonlight, and the higher they go, the closer the stars that blanket the sky seem to be.

Their takeoff is sudden, and fortunately for Dimitri's dignity, he manages to refrain from making any startled sounds—it's so drastically different from anything he's experienced, the feeling of being launched from the ground, the cold winter air whipping his face... his grip is splintering on the saddle and the prince very nearly collapses back against Claude, with the force of Maeve's takeoff. Once they're stable, though, and Dimitri pushes past that initial shock of watching the ground pass by so far below... 'breathtaking' doesn't even do it justice. Slowly he rights himself, lets his eyes cast over Garreg Mach and marvels at how perfect it is, how picturesque the monastery appears from so far up. And then his gaze travels up, and the prince drowns in a field of glittering stars brighter than they've ever been in Faerghus. The wind blows something fierce; his mouth opens in a quiet gasp.

Once they level out, Claude grins, quietly thankful that the prince is blocking a large part of the biting wind. “So, how are you faring?”

"This... is–" No, he still can't find the words to describe it adequately. He drags in a breath—it comes out as a bark of a laugh, surprised, elated. "This is... _fantastic,_ Claude, I–-!"

Watching Dimitri’s progression from shock, to wonder, to elation, makes Claude laugh too, re-experiencing those memories from his childhood of the first time he flew on his own vicariously through the other boy’s excitement. He can’t see Dimitri’s face, but he can picture it clearly. “Like nothing you’ve ever seen before, isn’t it? I never tire of it.” When the prince tilts his head back to take in the blanket of stars above, he does too, seeing them spiral into infinity like an endless collection of sparkling diamonds. “I’ve always loved stargazing. When I was a kid, I used to wish I could fly all the way up there and visit them. ...to escape into them.”

 _Escape._ Yes, as Dimitri lets his vision lose focus and morph into a blur of stars, he feels there's something there that... He _feels_ that. He remembers a similar wish, though not with the stars—they were only truly visible from Faerghus very rarely, after all. No, the escape that would present itself to him in his childhood had been none other than the deep forests of Fhirdiad that surrounded the city, ripe material for a young prince who'd always wondered what would happen if he were to enter and never turn back...

"Yes." His voice is softer as he admits this, and suddenly it seems he's completely disregarded the cold, the wind, all of it. "Though I never had such thoughts for anything as lofty as the stars. It's... hm. I never imagined you would be like that, too—finding yourself wondering what would happen if you weren't there, in the present. What it would be like if you could be anywhere else."

Listening to Dimitri describe his entire childhood in a nutshell draws Claude's gaze back down to the prince - well, the back of his head, anyway. “Anywhere else. Yeah, that about sums it up.” He’d assumed, naively, that people outside Almyra would be different - that somewhere else he could just exist, and no one would hate him for it. What a childish fantasy it had been. “Have you ever felt like...no matter what you do, what you say, no one listens? They’ve already judged you, before you’ve said a word, and nothing persuades them otherwise?” His voice is soft now, too, though then he chuckles. “Come to think of it, that’s probably why I spent so much time with...” He abruptly stops - _what are you saying, Claude? You can’t tell him that._ “Flying practice,” he finishes, a bit weakly.

The words hit closer to home than Claude intended, probably. For a moment, Dimitri almost panics, because it seems like he knows. But how could he? How could Claude possibly have knowledge of his imperfections? How mistrusted he was, how he was dismissed as nothing but an ignorant child, too trusting, naive of the world? The prince exhales sharply. "Something like that." He doesn't press Claude on that obvious save, weak as it is for the boy's usual game. Now they've both fallen into this pit of discomfort... Dimitri can't abide that. He forces himself to relax, forces some of that tension from his shoulders... and leans just slightly back against Claude, careful not to jostle him too greatly. "This almost feels like that, in a way. Escaping. If it's with you, all the better."

Claude can tell when Dimitri tenses up, and at first he thinks he's said too much--that the prince suspects something, somehow. Or that he doesn't like the obvious prevarication. But once he responds and relaxes again, Claude realizes it must be something else; something internal, rather than anything to do with him. Hmm. He files that away for later just as Dimitri leans back, taking him a bit by surprise, though not enough to jar him. "It does, doesn't it?" He smiles, though Dimitri can't see it. In more ways than one--they're escaping all the subtlety and deliberate distance they've been putting between them, too, up here where the only ones around to watch are the stars. And in his experience, the stars don't judge. "Here's to leaving the present behind, even if only for a little while." He pauses for a moment, before adjusting his grip on the reins so that he can close his arms around Dimitri's waist in a light embrace of a sort and pull him back to lean against him a little more. 

Dimitri's glad that his change of subject works. He has a sneaking suspicion that Claude will be spending his night after this the same way he will, lying in bed, searching his feelings, waiting to unpack and comb through all of that in the privacy of his own room. For now, they can enjoy this. They can pretend things are better, life is happier, that they have no such things to run from. Those arms around him are more a comfort than Claude could ever know. But his only response for a short while is a hum—it seems the prince has let his eyes close. He rights himself slightly when they change direction, and his eyes drift back to the monastery, catching the moon's hazy reflection across the pond. "I guess that riding in the fields was something of an escape for me, back home. The number of secrets my Aramis knows... were she– well, not a horse, I would be worried for my very reputation." _It's normal to talk to one's animal companions, is it not?_ He was young back when he still did it. Claude ought not judge him, he thinks.

"Heh, I know what you mean." Dimitri's unwittingly steered the conversation back to things he'll have to be annoyingly vague about again. "I used to fly a lot before I came here, and there was one particular wyvern I viewed more as a friend than a mount. She definitely knows things I've never told anyone else." He tugs the reins a bit, swinging around in a wide, lazy circle to give them a view of the other side of the monastery, where the moonlight shines dully on the frozen surface of the pond. "I wish we could do this kind of thing more often." 

"... I wouldn't mind at all. Finding more time for things like this. Making it, if I must. It feels these days there are few things capable of keeping me grounded." The light of the moon on the ice brings an idea to mind, though; Dimitri rests a gloved hand over Claude's to get his attention. "I... _do_ have an idea, if you would be willing."

As Dimitri seems to relax further, Claude wonders at that conversation they just...almost but not quite had. It would seem that being a prince is not easy in either of their homelands. An irrational urge to tell Dimitri everything overtakes him for a moment, before he brutally suppresses it. Obviously, that's off the table. He tightens his arms around Dimitri just a little bit, at this talk of making time for him. "Making time, huh? I'd like that. All three of us are under an awful lot of pressure lately." And he still can't stop thinking about Dimitri whenever his mind wanders, so at least this way maybe he won't be distracted all the time... He can't help a vague sense of guilt at keeping so much back when the prince is so open. At the very least, shouldn't he let Dimitri know in no uncertain terms how he feels about _him?_ "...but more than that, I really _want_ to spend time with you. So I'm up for anything you've got in mind."

 _Maybe that was still too vague._ But telling Dimitri the whole truth--that Claude's had dreams about him, that he misses his kiss and his touch, that he wishes they'd gone to the ball together? The thought seems ludicrous. Surely, if he just lets his actions speak for him, Dimitri will get the picture? But the prince is the one who's always coming out and saying what he thinks, what he feels. Maybe he would appreciate it in return? ...or maybe he would view it as the weakness Claude was always told such things were. Better safe than sorry. ...right?

Dimitri thinks even 'an awful lot of pressure' may still be an understatement. Somehow, he can't help but feel that he's more in limbo than anything, that there are so many moving parts in their current circumstances... he can't even afford to feel stress, at this point. He's still devoting so much of his brain to simply keeping track of every individual thread... "The pond." A gloved finger extends to point, as if it were necessary. "Would you be able to take us down?"

Claude shakes off his whirling thoughts and chuckles. "I hope so, otherwise we'll be stuck up here forever. Just me, you, and Maeve, until we drop out of the sky. ;)" It doesn't sound so bad when he says it out loud, actually...ha. He leans forward to get a better grip on the reins--and to see over Dimitri's shoulder--and guides the wyvern down in a wide, slow spiral until they land near the docks with a scrape of her claws on the stone and a final gust of wind before her wings still.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Claude introduced Dimitri to riding a wyvern, Dimitri returns the favor by introducing Claude to ice skating. The pretense that this isn't a date predictably flies out the window.

Claude slides down from the wyvern's saddle and then reaches back up to help Dimitri down. "So, what did you think of your first time up in the air?"

"I... don't think I have the words." By the time they've landed, Dimitri still feels like he's up there somewhere; painfully light and somehow heavy as a stone at the same time, and were it not for Claude's steadying hand helping him out of the saddle, he would have surely fallen. "I think that I can see why you like it." And he pauses, and seems to think better of his words, because soon after, he speaks up again. "It seems like... such a 'you' thing. Feeling that free, like nothing can come close to reaching you." Maybe not so much of a Claude thing as a _how Claude makes him feel_ thing. But he's attempting to keep this as... platonic as he can manage. (Even if the thought brings back the redness of his cheeks.)

Claude already feels his own ears burning by the time he notices Dimitri’s face reddening again too. Gods, the prince did it again, almost as though he could read Claude’s mind. “Heh... I like that. It could be a ‘you’ thing too, you know. Neither I nor the wyverns are going anywhere. ...thanks to you, actually.” Funny how Dimitri manages to make ‘running away from your life’ sound like a _good_ thing. He supposes there are ups and downs to everything. But Dimitri always seems to remind him about the ups of his own life, somehow.

"Mm, but, seeing the pond from up there made me think about... ice skating, back home in Faerghus. Have you ever been able to, Claude?"

“Ice skating?” Claude cocks his head, looking at the pond. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

 _Ah._ A smile curls the prince's lips. "I see, I see... have you ever seen it at all, then? I think you'd be quite good at it, now that I'm thinking about it. Yes, you're pretty nimble, and you'd have the balance for it..." The prince is off in his own head for a second, it seems...

Claude watches Dimitri do what he can only call ‘daydreaming’ with a grin. “Not to interrupt your imaginary Claude demonstrating what is obviously my future mastery of this mysterious activity, but the answer is no, I never have. But now I’m absolutely _burning_ with curiosity to see you show me.”

"Give me just a moment." Is the prince really going to run off to his room? Granted... it isn't far.

Claude laughs, watching Dimitri run off. What could he be doing? Claude doesn't think he'll ever get tired of seeing that childlike glee on Dimitri's face. The way his eyes shine like sunlight through sapphires, that carefree smile...it's such a rare look for him that Claude wants to keep coaxing it out as much as possible. Dimitri's up the stairs and back down in but a minute: in his hands he clutches the laces of a pair of boots, and wipes gloved fingertips across the blades that adorn their soles.

For the minute or two he's waiting, Claude ventures to the edge of the frozen pond and sits on the dock, looking out at the light reflecting from its icy surface. It's so strange to think that this is the same pond where they always fish...wait, what happens to the fish when it freezes over? Winter here is so full of mysteries; he thinks he might love it, if it weren't for the damnable cold, and wonders whether winter in Faerghus might hold even more wonders. Sitting here mere feet away from all that ice is making him feel colder now, though he's not sure if it's really a temperature difference or just his imagination...granted, he had the prince's close proximity to keep him warmer until just a minute ago, too. Either way, by the time Dimitri returns with his...knife shoes?, Claude is shivering a bit, huddled in his cloak.

Dimitri seats himself on the dock to put the skates on, before standing on the ice to demonstrate for Claude—how easily he does so, as if he's still merely walking on normal ground. "You wear bladed shoes and glide--skate--around on the ice. It's... imagine how easily you slip on ice, and then imagine using the blades to stop yourself and control your movement. We all used to do this all the time in Faerghus..."

Claude watches Dimitri walk out onto the ice with a quizzical expression, but he's soon nodding at the explanation. "Right, I see. That's genius! Imagine sneaking a battalion of ice skating troops across a frozen moat...then on the other side, they could use the blades as weapons, develop a brawling style with slicing kicks..." It's his turn to get lost in his own thoughts, as this idea of gliding on ice with special boots suddenly opens up a whole new vista of schemes while he watches the prince skate around as though he were born wearing those shoes.

Dimitri does his best to follow Claude's audible train of thought, and the longer it goes on, the more he wants to laugh. _Leave it to him, to try and find a practical application for a children's pastime._ "I suppose that you could... it certainly isn't that they're not dangerous. The four of us – myself, Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix – had our fair share of injuries big and small, from skating. It requires quite a bit of practice... somehow, I can't help but feel you'll be a natural at it."

Dimitri is trying something, here—he smiles wider, and waits a beat... and winks.

Claude tries his best not to laugh. He fails, but his laughter is good-natured--delighted, even. Seeing Dimitri in a lighthearted mood is gratifying, particularly after that aborted conversation they had in the air.

 _A demonstration is probably in order._ Dimitri unravels the scarf from his neck (it only blocks his view of the pond) and thinks for a second, before moving closer and offering it to Claude. "Here, keep yourself warm. Let me show you."

Claude blinks. "Oh--thanks. Wait, you're not cold??" He doesn't question it further, though, gratefully wrapping the scarf around his neck and shoulders and tucking the bottom half of his face into its soft fabric. It's warmer even than usual, fresh from absorbing the prince's body heat, and Claude quietly breathes in the scent of him from the scarf's warmth as he watches.

"Cold?" Dimitri begins a slow, backwards drift across the pond's surface, so that he might face Claude when speaking to him. "Not at all!" Staying moving, too, has helped keep away the brunt of the cold, though even sitting perfectly still, he doubts he would be so bothered by it. He makes some distance between them, then begins to meander around the pond slowly, slowly... he builds up his speed steadily, astounded as years of muscle memory come flooding back to him. It isn't long before he's flaunting, performing all manner of minute twirls and spins... if he closes his eyes, he's back in Fhirdiad, for a moment.

...Claude gapes, wide-eyed, at Dimitri's performance. He's seen the prince in action on the battlefield plenty, knew he had a certain aggressive grace with his lance, but this? This is a whole new level of impressive--Dimitri looks like a dancer, his movements fluid and elegant as he seems to almost fly across the ice. _Don't blush, don't blush, don't-- dammit._

He feels like he could watch this forever.

Dimitri finally nears the dock again, blades scraping against the ice when he skids to a stop. By that point, Claude is sitting forward, half-mesmerized, having almost forgotten about the cold. As the prince skids neatly to a polished halt, he applauds, his expression part grinning and part agape, as though Dimitri has just performed some fantastical magic trick. “ _Wow._ That was incredible! I’ve never seen anyone move like that. You’re amazing.”

The prince more than flushes at Claude's praise, unable to take such genuine compliments even when he knows that he was, essentially, showing off... can he be blamed? For Claude to watch him, looking so enraptured, and-– well, this is one of few things Dimitri is truly good at that isn't breaking things, harming others. He gives a flourished bow, and flips the hair from his face once he rights his posture, only for it to come right back down immediately afterward.

Claude supposes he should have guessed that Dimitri had such a theatrical side to him, given the way he was the night of the afterparty, but to see him fully embrace it makes him laugh all over again. "I have to admit, I didn't expect Your Princeliness to be such a flagrant showoff. You should do it more often--it suits you." _As does the fetching way his hair falls into his face, and the way he holds himself on the ice, with such confidence and grace..._

Dimitri's kneeling down on the ice to unlace his skates when the other boy's words have him sputtering. "F-flagrant? Showoff?" _Why did he have to call me out about it?_ He's almost... he's nearly pouting, it looks like.

Claude grins, though he hopes this doesn't mean the prince will _stop_ showing off out of self-consciousness. _...is he pouting? Gods, that's adorable._

By the time Dimitri's finished putting his ordinary boots back on, his eyes glimmer. "I know for a fact that Sylvain has brought his skates. Would you... like to join me? I promise, it isn't nearly so taxing as it appears."

Claude chuckles, at the invitation. “Are you kidding? If you hadn’t asked I would have _insisted_ you teach me. As...long as you think Sylvain won’t mind, that is.”

"I doubt he will mind—even so, at this hour... he's hopefully asleep?" The prince of Faerghus, resorting to petty thievery? Yes, apparently. "Give me but a minute!" An instant later, he's rushing back inside, back up the dormitory stairs; when he returns, he's skipping down the stairs with another pair of skates in hand. "Mine are more broken in, so they would be more comfortable for you. I will take Sylvain's."

Claude's eyes gleam in the moonlight, both to hear that Dimitri plans to just straight-up steal Sylvain's skates and in anticipation of the ice skating itself. When the prince returns and hands him his skates, he takes a moment to inspect them, curious. _They really are just shoes but with sharp blades attached to them, huh._ He pulls off his boots with a haste born of eagerness, as Dimitri holds his own skates upright and beckons Claude to slide his feet in. Once that's done, though, Claude pauses, looking down at the ice and continuing to sit where he is. "Okay...how does this work?"

Dimitri moves to quickly lace up Sylvain's skates and soon, he's back to standing on the ice, extending his hands to help Claude to his feet. "First things first—remember that you ought to be leaning forward, always, and that you'll want to keep your legs bent. You can hold on to me for as long as you need to."

Claude takes Dimitri's hands and stands, stepping onto the ice. Lean forward, legs bent...okay. It seems a little ludicrous that anyone could stay upright on such thin blades, but he's seen Dimitri do it easily, and he's managing it okay. For all of five seconds so far, but still. He does keep a tight hold on Dimitri's hands, though, as he finds his balance and adjusts his center of gravity. "Whoa...haha, okay, now what?"

"The first motions are quite easy. Think of it as... marching." Though he never lets go of Claude, Dimitri mimics the movement for him to see, careful not to drag the poor boy across the ice. He's taken the first step particularly well—he remembers how Glenn had to coax Ingrid onto the ice, with how afraid she was of falling... "And then you'll want to move, just slightly. Keep marching until you feel you've got that rhythm... let me know when you are ready."

Marching? What Dimitri was doing before didn't seem much like marching, but Claude's game to give it a shot. He watches the prince's movements closely and then tries it out himself, until he feels confident enough that he can do it reliably without falling over, at least while he's holding onto Dimitri. "All right...ready. Let's do this."

"Now just keep that motion in mind. You'll want to do that, and the more comfortable you feel... the longer... you lift... your feet." Each pause is a demonstration; Dimitri's pushed off slowly, skating backwards, holding those hands tightly in his own to bring Claude with him. "Use me if you feel like you're losing your balance, alright? I'll catch you."

It doesn't seem so hard; after all, if Dimitri can do it _backwards,_ Claude's sure he can manage the basics. He watches and mimics the motions, holding onto Dimitri all the while--oh, he understands now why it's like marching. "I still don't understand how you're starting and stopping..." He manages to keep it mostly steady for a little while, leaning forward like Dimitri said, although his balance feels shakier than he expected it to be. "You made this look so easy, I feel like I've been deceived. ;)"

"I'll teach you that in a minute. First you have to move before you're able to stop."

Just as Claude's starting to pick up some confidence in his movements, he misjudges as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other and the blade slides out from beneath him. "Gah--!" Out of pure reflex, he clutches at Dimitri's arm.

 _It will do to catch him for now,_ Dimitri thinks—right as Claude missteps and his feet come slipping out from beneath him. He's lucky to have fallen right into Dimitri himself, the prince muses, because he's more than quick enough to grab him. His one arm is made immobile by the hand cinching around it but luckily-- _Blaiddyds and their prodigious arm strength, and all that--_ his other arm is able to hook around Claude with ease, pulling them flush and holding him up by the waist.

"Are you alright?" He makes no move to pull away, aware that Claude won't have his feet under him correctly just yet. "A slip? You didn't hurt your ankle or anything, did you–-?"

Claude's first thought is, _wow, they really aren't kidding when they say Dimitri's ridiculously strong_...his second thought is less a thought and more a flush of warmth that goes through him, as Dimitri pulls him close, coupled with an actual flush of embarrassment. "I'm fine. And my ankle's fine. My dignity, though? Thoroughly crushed." He looks up at Dimitri with a wry smile, then tries to re-balance himself while he clings to the prince to avoid falling. Although given how strong those arms are, he doubts he'd fall even if he didn't hold on at all.

"Crushed? Come now, it isn't so serious. For someone who's probably never so much as stood on ice, you're doing remarkably, Claude. Most people would be too afraid to try as it is." Leave it to Claude to impress Dimitri even when he's failing, at least partially. Dimitri is slow and careful in helping him find his footing again (and that arm around him moves so that his hand now rests firmly against his hip instead.) "Back on your feet? Alright. You really are doing quite well already; I'm certain you'll have the movement down in no time at all."

"Well, if you want to bolster my ego, who am I to stop you? ;)" That trademark Dimitri kindness makes him glad his face is already flushed from the cold and the wind; maybe the prince can't tell they're not the only reasons. "Okay, here we go..." With Dimitri's steadying hands and a bit of concentration, he manages to get back into the rhythm of the skating, and this time the farther they glide around the pond, the more sure his movements become.

They continue that way for some time, with Dimitri sprinkling in words of encouragement and praise the longer they go on, the more that Claude grows confident in his maneuvers and comfortable on the blades. The prince pushes just slightly ahead, still linked at the hands, but arms straightened now as they curve around the pond's edge again. "Now, stopping—you'll want to make your toes point in, slowly, until you're scraping at the ice! Alright? Go slowly..."

"Have you ever considered giving up the throne to become a professor? ;) You're good at this." The more practiced Claude gets and the less likely it is that he's going to lose his balance, the more fun this becomes. When Dimitri begins the next lesson, he nods and...gives it a try, slowly shifting the position of the skates. The stop he eventually comes to is wobbly, prompting him to tighten his grip on Dimitri's hands, but he doesn't fall. "Hey, what do you know? It worked."

"I knew it would come naturally to you." The tightening and loosening of Claude's grip on him comes with the territory, and so Dimitri can only hope his traitorous heart will cease its hammering soon. "The best teachers are those with the most experience. And, after having suffered Sylvain's teaching when I was little, I refuse to subject another to anything remotely like it." And he's not entirely joking. Being practically told 'you'll get the hang of it' and nothing else is quite unhelpful for a shut-in child with anxiety who's doing something for the first time, who would have thought? Dimitri snorts.

”Sylvain? I can only imagine how _that_ went.”

When Dimitri next looks up at Claude, a light dusting of white has appeared across his shoulders and in his hair. The prince didn't realize it was actively snowing. "You aren't too cold, are you? Should it continue to snow, perhaps we ought to head back inside, sometime soon."

They’re just standing on the ice now, hand in hand, and as soon as the snow starts to fall, Claude's face lights up. “Are you kidding? I don’t care how cold it is, it’s snowing!” He lets go of one of Dimitri’s hands briefly to reach up and brush a few snowflakes from the prince’s hair, laughing. “Besides, you’re here to keep me from freezing, right? ;)” _Why did I say that..._ “Anyway, what’s next?” He returns his free hand to holding Dimitri’s again.

Dimitri can appreciate Claude's enthusiasm (it's quite charming, especially knowing that he likely rarely has the chance to act so casual, so normally...), but his brain short circuits when Claude says that—about. Keeping him. Warm. Dimitri watches him in silence for a moment, mouth opening and closing subtly in a silent stammer. That is... that is a thing, that he said. And certainly not a thing that has crossed his mind, constantly, ever since he first considered how Claude might be handling the weather. Definitely not.

Claude keeps his expression carefully neutral as he watches Dimitri flounder a bit at his words. He’s not sure exactly how to take that...is the prince embarrassed? annoyed? just surprised? Well, what’s said is said. No sense dwelling on it.

"Well, I." Suddenly even the light layers Dimitri's wearing feel too warm. "... falling." _Eloquent._ "Falling properly is an important step. So that you don't hurt yourself, or are hurt by anyone else who is skating."

“Ah, now learning how to fall properly, I _have_ practiced - on solid ground, anyway. Mounting a wyvern isn’t always as easy as it was tonight.”

"Mm, it's a similar concept, but different in execution." Dimitri pushes himself off and pulls away from Claude, creating some distance between them to demonstrate more effectively. "From personal experience, if you're ever falling, you'll want to try and turn while you do. So that you'll land on your side, first, and then you can get up." He's careful in demonstrating, slow in rolling over onto his hands and knees afterward, careful in every step so that Claude might see clearly. "It will happen regardless of how experienced you may be, so it's best to practice."

Claude manages to keep his balance pretty well for this being the first time Dimitri's let go entirely. He doesn't push his luck, though, staying where he is to watch Dimitri demonstrate. "I suppose now you want me to fall on purpose, huh?" He shakes his head with a smirk and a _tsk_. "And here I thought you said you'd catch me."

As much as he ought to be embarrassed, or willing as he ought to be to tease back, when Dimitri asks his question it seems... very much genuine. "Do you want me to catch you, Claude?"

Claude blinks, caught a bit off-guard by the sudden earnestness. "I certainly wouldn't say no. It's a lot more pleasant than falling on the ice. ;)" _Come on_ , he urges himself. Dimitri looks like he really wants to know, without jokes or prevarication. Even if Claude isn't entirely certain where he's headed with that question... "...and by that I mean...yes."

He's surprised Claude. The thought nearly makes Dimitri smile, but some part of him is pushing him forward—the prince moves carefully to approach again, skating to a smooth stop... his head tilts, and he doesn't bother to hide the way he observes Claude, the thoughtfulness that writes itself across his face. "Then I'll be here to catch you."

"...I like the sound of that." The moonlight gently shining on the snow glistening in Dimitri's hair looks a little like twinkling stars, mirroring the sky above, and Claude remembers his elation to see that sky spread so close above them in the air. That look in Dimitri's eye seems to say more than his words do, and without thinking further about it, Claude reaches up to pull him down, with a hand at the nape of his neck, into a kiss.

...and a moment later, he remembers he's standing on _ice_ when he doesn't compensate for his impulsive motion by shifting his feet and they slip out from under him.

To the prince's credit, saying such a thing wasn't merely for show. That isn't to say that the kiss doesn't catch him off guard: though he doesn't reach out to Claude just yet, he's quick to reciprocate, by all means. His reflexes have always been fast though, faster even than he realizes—he feels the slightest give of Claude's lips and opens his eyes, and Dimitri manages to snag his waist, just barely, with an arm flung snug around it.

They're now much in the same position they were in earlier, though his face is flushed for different reasons, obviously. "... I wasn't joking, but do be careful, Claude."

Before Claude can even quite parse what's happening, Dimitri's catching him again and he's once again trying to salvage his footing on the ice. The look he gives the prince is a bit sheepish. "I guess that's what I get for tempting fate. Still, it's nice to know I can count on you to keep your word." He finds it hard to resist trying to pick up where he left off a minute ago, but Dimitri's right--until he's practiced more on the ice, it's either this or the prince will have to just carry him around to kiss him. ...which is tempting to suggest, but he _does_ actually want to learn how to skate, so maybe later.

"I suppose, at this point, I'm better off simply holding on to you." Having said that, Dimitri adjusts his hold on Claude without quite releasing him, moving now to stand beside him. His touch is testing, watching Claude, waiting for his reaction when a gloved hand settles on the other boy's far hip. "If it will keep you from hurting yourself, that is." He keeps his expression straight, but the amusement in his eyes is more than clear.

When Dimitri's arm shifts to hold him steady, Claude glances over to see the barely-contained mirth and nods sagely in response. "I couldn't agree more. I'm obviously hopeless at this ice skating business" (clearly untrue) "so without your strong arms to hold me up, I'm afraid I'd be doomed to lie here on the pond, wasting away until spring." By the end of the sentence, he's adopted a dramatic tone, but he can't keep up the straight face beyond that and ruins the effect by laughing.

"I won't allow it." Perhaps Dimitri's feeling brave when his hand squeezes lightly against Claude's hip. "I suppose that I have no choice now but to remain by your side. What a difficult position you've put me in, here." Indeed, part of him really wishes to stop skating if it should mean he could devote more personal attention... listen to him. How absurd he must sound.

Despite the jokes, Claude admits to himself that skating around on the pond with Dimitri's arm around him is...really nice. "You said it. No choice at all."

Dimitri begins to loop them around the pond, now, helping to guide Claude into steadily higher speeds. "All joking aside, you're learning so quickly. You really do have some sort of innate talent, don't you? Making everything appear so effortless..."

As they go steadily faster, Claude starts needing to devote more of his attention to keeping up and less to dwelling on kissing Dimitri again. "Heh, well, I _do_ pick things up quickly. But the trick to seeming like everything is effortless is to avoid doing anything you're not good at in front of anyone. ;)"

"I'll simply have to help you get good enough at skating that you can show that off so effortlessly, too." Now, though... now his mind has drifted from the pond and back home, where images of the frozen lake behind the palace fill his mind, watching as Claude's vibrant colors dance across its surface–- Something's probably wrong, for him to think such a thing and barely feel that sting of embarrassment. It does prompt him to lean slightly closer, though, down that mere inch or so he needs for his lips to rest near Claude's ear. "And then, when you come to Fhirdiad, everyone will be so impressed, to see you already know how."

Dimitri's voice so close, feeling his warm breath, sends a little shiver through Claude. It's...distracting, but between the prince's arm around him and the balance he's learned by now, the only sign of his distraction is that for a brief moment he's letting Dimitri pull him along instead of actively moving his skates. He turns his head to look the other boy in the eye, now quite close. It would be easy to just...lean forward a little...but probably best not to do it while they're going so fast. "...I see our agenda for this fabled visit to Fhirdiad is filling up fast. First ice skating, then a party so raucous there won't be room for an afterparty? Can't wait to see what else you've got in store."

Then he puts his attention back on skating, as though the exchange has renewed his determination to learn. "Well, we've got all winter ahead of us. We'll just have to make sure to get in as much practice as possible before the ice melts." The thought of doing this all the time puts a grin on his face.

"Of course. It'll be your first visit, will it not?" It isn't often Dimitri's voice takes on such a timbre, and perhaps one could blame it on proximity. Still, though, to be utterly in his element like this and have Claude beside him to enjoy the weather, this comfortable piece of home, how could he not be so content?

"That it will--the only times I've ever been to the Kingdom were the few missions we've had here at the monastery that sent us there." Claude's trying to concentrate on practicing, but Dimitri seems to have flipped the charm switch back on, and being completely sober isn't helping Claude resist it at all. "And when it warms up again, _I'll_ teach _you_ how to fly."

"I'll be in your hands, then."

"Yes, I suppose you will." Claude looks up at the snow falling. "Don't worry, though. I'll be there to catch you if you fall."

A scoff of a laugh. "I'll be counting on you to."

Claude hums a little, considering. "You know...maybe I _am_ getting cold after all. I wanted to learn how to skate backwards, but since we've got all winter...what do you say we find somewhere warmer to go for now?" In truth, he's not nearly as cold as he thought he'd be--not with Dimitri's warmth right here beside him--but it's a nice, convenient excuse.

Dimitri is setting up to move to Claude's other side; his hand's slid to rest now over the small of his back instead in preparation, but Claude's words give him pause. _Somewhere warmer, hm?_ "We can do that," comes his answer, and his arm tightens back around Claude's waist once Dimitri begins to stop, and urges him with a squeeze to the hip to attempt the same. "At this time of night, we risk running into guards around most of the school... my room may be something of a mess, but–-"

Claude gets the message and focuses for a moment on slowing and stopping without losing his balance--easier now than it was, so he supposes he really is picking this up pretty quickly. Dimitri's suggestion takes him by surprise--charm or not, he hadn't really expected it, but he certainly isn't complaining. "Ha, it can't possibly be more of a mess than mine." But a glance toward the docks reminds him... "Although we should probably take Maeve back to the roost first."

 _Ah. Yes. The wyvern..._ "Mm, yes. Let's get her back where she'll be warm." And, you know, where they won't get in trouble for sneaking her from the stables.

Dimitri guides them back to the dock and begins the process of replacing his skates with boots once again. "I can imagine she may be tired. Do you think it'll be alright, walking her back to the stables? I know it isn't far from here, but I don't know how patrol routes change at night."

It was Claude's own idea, getting off the ice, but he can’t help some disappointment anyway as they reach the dock and Dimitri finally lets go of him. He sits down to change out of the skates too, and then takes a second to readjust to walking normally. “I know the night patrols pretty well” (why? best not to ask) “but wyverns are slow as molasses on the ground. Why don’t I fly her back to the roost while you return Sylvain’s skates, and I’ll meet you at your room?”

"Then I'll leave it to you." Dimitri nods, and carefully takes up both pairs of skates in his arms, mindful of the blades. "Do be careful on your way, mind that some of the ground may be more _ice_ than _snow_."

”Wait, what do you mean the ground might be ice?”

"Ah, you– have you not known...?" _That's... well. That's at least mildly adorable, perhaps more than it should be. And understandable._ "In winter, should the water on the ground have been particularly deep at the time of the air becoming cold enough to freeze it, it may have been frozen into ice instead of having been covered normally by snow. Simply... walk a tad slowly, and you will be fine."

”Sheesh. Who knew winter was so dangerous?” Claude jogs over to the wyvern who has so patiently waited and swings up into the saddle with a bit of unnecessary showmanship. “Back in a jiffy!” And he’s back in the air once more.

A nod, a salute, and so begins Dimitri sneaking carefully back towards the dorms, and then into Sylvain's neighboring room. He's fortunate the other boy is dead asleep, enough that even the unintentional scrape of blades against his floor doesn't wake him. Dimitri doesn't push his luck by lingering. He returns to his room and lights a few candles, then goes about clearing off his bed and tidying up his desk a fraction in anticipation of Claude's return, careful to find those specific tomes of noteworthy subjects and stashing them away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Dimitri learn a lot about each other behind closed doors, in Dimitri's room late at night. Angst, PG-13 makeouts, and lots of softness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The headcanon in here about the childhood retainer was an idea I saw floating around on tumblr, though I can't remember where -_- but I filled in my own details.

It’s a short flight back to the wyvern roost, followed by a few minutes of getting Maeve unsaddled and settled. Getting back to the dorms while avoiding the knights isn’t exactly a piece of cake, but it’s not that hard either for someone who’s broken curfew as many times as Claude has. Once he’s in the clear, he stops at his own room to leave his winter gear behind, before heading down the hall and knocking on Dimitri’s door.

Dimitri nearly bounds to the door, surprisingly light on his feet so as to keep quiet about it, and cracks the door open wide enough for him to slip in, without the sudden light into the corridor being too obvious. "You can take your winter outers off. If you're still cold, I have plenty of Faerghan blankets that will help warm you up." _In addition to me,_ he thinks with no shortage of embarrassment, and so he definitely doesn't voice that bit.

Now that Claude's here, he’s a little surprised to find a bit of nervous energy making him hyperaware of his own pulse. But he smiles easily, showing none of that to Dimitri. “Already dropped them off.” He spreads his arms a little as if to say, see? No cloak. “But it _is_ pretty drafty in here,” as he steps inside the room and glances around. It’s the first time he’s seen the prince’s room - it doesn’t look messy to him, but then again he did give Dimitri a bit of time. Maybe he cleaned up? Or maybe his standards are just high. “So I’ll take you up on that blanket offer.”

 _I thought so._ Dimitri shuts the door and moves to his wardrobe, rummaging around until he finds his prizes. The blankets he draws out are... unbelievably thick-looking, giant woven things that stand higher than his head, once he gathers them in his arms. He shuffles back to the bed, dumps one aside, before moving with such delicate care to drape the other across Claude's shoulders. Warm... and unbelievably light. Deceptively so. Dimitri settles next to him and bundles himself up, sitting hip to hip with him.

Claude's a little taken aback by the sheer volume of blanket here. And the way Dimitri is so careful and attentive, not just handing him a blanket but actually bundling him up in it...is adorable. “Wow, I thought this was going to weigh a ton.”

"They're astonishingly comfortable, aren't they? And wonderful for wearing around the house without being weighed down. This would be a perfect night for a warm drink, if the dining hall weren't locked up..."

It certainly isn’t just the blanket warming Claude, though. Dimitri’s close proximity isn’t exactly slowing his pulse. “Well, much as I’ve, ah... _borrowed_ the kitchens after hours before, that would mean getting up from this spot.” He grins at the prince. “And I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound very appealing to me.”

Dimitri leans just slightly further, puts a tad more of his weight against Claude until they're sitting shoulder to shoulder. If he looks at Claude, he think he'll be a bit too overwhelmed by the urge to touch him more. Cuddle up to him. Kiss him again. He doesn't know. He doesn't really realize that he's sitting there in silence, actually _staring_ at his mouth, until it's conspicuous. Dimitri's eyes flicker back up to meet Claude's. "Ah. I. Agree, wholeheartedly."

 _Oh, Dimitri’s turned the charm switch back off, somehow._ Claude suppresses a laugh, though it gets harder the longer the silence stretches on. By the time Dimitri speaks again, he can’t help a bit of it bubbling out. “You sure about that? Or do you need another minute to think it over? ;)”

"I... may need another minute." Laughing with him or at him, Dimitri decides then that he likes to hear that laughter regardless. He ducks his head and wills away the warmth in his cheeks, knowing full well how–- odd he probably seems right now. Must these feelings, these realizations sneak up on him so suddenly? _While_ he's in Claude's presence, at that? "I really did enjoy tonight. It feels as if it's been too long since I last got to enjoy your company this way..."

”It has.” Judging by the color of Dimitri's face and the way he appears to be trying to turtle himself into the blankets, Claude can take a guess as to what’s got him spacing out. “And if I remember correctly, we got interrupted in doing something _else_ it’s been too long for by my embarrassing display of clumsiness out on the ice.” He shifts his position under the blanket to face Dimitri directly.

"I still assert that you did exceptionally for your first time skating." At the very least, Dimitri isn't the only one of them still thinking about that.

”Well, if anyone would know, you would. So I guess I have no choice but to trust your judgment.”

Dimitri hovers there for a moment, considering, closing that distance between them almost unconsciously, and slowly at first... just in case. Just in case Claude should change his mind.

Claude's patient at first, letting Dimitri take his time, but eventually he reaches up to pull the prince into the kiss, just as he had on the ice. Only this time, he’s in no danger of falling anywhere. ...physically, at least.

It's much easier this time. Dimitri lets himself be that much more insistent, enough to push just slightly into their kiss by the time their lips meet again. Out come his hands from under the blanket and they rise to take Claude's face in his hands, fingers fitting to the curve of his jaw. He keeps it slow at first, as much as he can bear to; even if it feels like it's been forever since they last did this, since he was last able to hold Claude in his arms this way, he's always aware of possibly pushing too far.

It seems softer this time somehow, slower and more relaxed, less...urgent. Back in the classroom, all those weeks ago, Claude just couldn’t stop himself; now, he _could_ , but he doesn’t want to, and won’t. The slower pace means he gets to enjoy every small sensation: the warmth of Dimitri’s hands, the softness of his lips, the feel of the prince’s hair and skin under his fingers as he lifts his own hands to clasp at the nape of Dimitri’s neck.

Even when the prince pulls away for air, he doesn't separate completely, not for long—he peppers lighter kisses at the corner of his mouth, across his lower lip. When Dimitri pulls back but apparently can’t stop anyway, Claude chuckles and slides his hands down to rest on the other boy's chest, near the collar of his jacket. “May I?” He fiddles with the clasp holding the collar closed, fingers lightly brushing against Dimitri’s throat.

Dimitri nods his consent, pulling away enough to meet his eye. In his breathlessness, the prince's cheeks have flushed again, not to mention how that unruly hair of his is the slightest bit more disheveled than usual, if such a thing's even possible. He doesn't seem intent on pulling the blanket back up from where it's slipped from his shoulders.

Claude, too, can no longer claim to be cold. With deft fingers, he begins to open Dimitri’s jacket, one clasp at a time. Once it’s half open, he stops to lean in and press gentle kisses to the prince’s neck, before returning his attention to those soft lips and picking up where they left off; this time, though, he’s a little less content to leave things slow. His kisses are more insistent, firmer, just a little bit hungrier.

Those kisses to his neck nearly have the prince squirming for that first second, before he adjusts to the sensation; that something so simple could feel this way simply because this is Claude... And then Claude's kissing him again, and Dimitri snakes his arms beneath the blanket still half-on the other boy's body, trying to pull him closer – his back nudges up against the wall at some point, and it makes this much easier – as he deepens that kiss. As much as he tried not think about it... "Missed this," he murmurs, between kisses.

Claude lets those strong arms pull him in, draping his own around Dimitri’s neck and pushing forward once the prince is sitting up against the wall. “Me too.” Eventually he pauses, pulling back only to shift from sitting to kneeling. He glances at Dimitri’s hair and laughs a bit, ruffling it with his hand. “Your hair’s almost as rebellious as mine. Almost.”

"Oh, don't remind me." Dimitri takes that ruffling well enough, for all that he's teased and goaded about it by his friends. His hand slides up from Claude's back to his neck, and then his fingers dip cautiously underneath his collar; blue eyes flicker up to meet the other boy's, a silent question. Dimitri has his own scars, marking beneath his clothes that he... supposes he wouldn't mind Claude seeing. He can't know if it would be the same for Claude... "Is this alright?"

Claude looks down, now, into Dimitri’s eyes, and nods his assent with an impish look. From here, the urge to push the prince up against the wall and kiss him silly is even stronger, but he waits. At the same time, he remembers it being the other way around last time, and that had its appeal too...

 _Alright. Good. That's..._ As Dimitri's hands busy themselves loosening the tunic, he's leaning back in to seek out more of those kisses, lighter now, searching. It isn't until Claude's been stripped down to his undershirt that Dimitri pauses to remove his own jacket more fully—miraculously, though, he doesn't shrink away, even when the scars littering his skin from shoulders to wrists come into view.

Claude lets Dimitri do all the work, obliging him with the kisses he’s after, until the chill of the room comes back to him a bit without his jacket on. But he’s soon distracted from that when Dimitri takes his off. He runs his fingers gently down the prince’s arm, concern and curiosity both in his eyes, feeling each scar under his fingertips. “...what happened?”

"Well... a number of things." Vague as it is, it's mostly because... Dimitri doesn't know where to start. His hands hover now on Claude's hips, pulling him close, hoping to help him settle. "Some are simply from training, others from... the few true battles we've been in so far, I suppose. The bandits that we've faced here, and Duscur, and training incidents..." The worst of them, still, are on his back, thankfully hidden by his undershirt. His smile grows sheepish. "I'm told a lot that I ought to be proud of them. Faerghans traditionally cherish scars."

”Huh.” Claude's glad the one scar he really doesn’t want to have to explain is hidden under his shirt. He supposes, were he a close combat sort, he’d have a lot more of them too. He settles in closer to Dimitri, running his hands over the prince’s broad shoulders and chest now, slowly. “Ah, of course. Each scar is proof you survived and won.” Some of the things you survive aren’t necessarily memories you want to keep, though...even if he was told that kind of attitude was a coward’s view, when he was younger. “Personally, I don’t subscribe to that kind of thinking. Now, having seen this, I’m going to worry about you every time we go into battle.”

Dimitri's thoughts almost vanish entirely, once that beast in his chest catches wind of the trail Claude's fingertips trace across his skin, then against his chest through his shirt. "There's no need." Should he fall in battle, it... is what it is. He doesn't say that; Dimitri buys himself a moment to think of a better reason by letting his thumbs slip beneath the hem of Claude's undershirt, just barely and with yet another glance to judge his reaction, before his thumbs draw light circles against his skin. "Most men from Faerghus who fight like I do will end up scarred. I've accepted my fate." There's still a great deal of humor in his tone.

Claude hesitates for a moment at Dimitri’s glance, but nods to give him permission. “Well, it certainly doesn’t diminish your good looks any. ;)” He considers distracting the prince from what his thumbs are doing by going in for another kiss now, but the same part of his mind that felt an overpowering urge to tell Dimitri everything earlier tells him to wait. So he does; he waits, until inevitably those thumbs find an old scar of his own that never quite healed properly, on the soft flesh just above his right hip. And then he waits to see if Dimitri will ask.

At first, Dimitri wonders if he can play it off. By now it's no secret, the degree of... privacy, that Claude chooses to maintain. But the barest pause of his thumb over that sliver of raised flesh is a fraction of a second, and too long for Dimitri to ignore without feeling obvious. He doesn't look. But his thumb doubles back to trace gently, slowly, along that scar as if he could soothe it, somehow. As if it were necessary. His gaze speaks to the gentleness, the understanding in his eyes. "And you?" _Not if you don't want to. Nothing that you don't want to._

 _There it is._ As Claude knew would happen, of course. He could so easily avoid this - make something up, joke about it until Dimitri’s sufficiently distracted, outright refuse - but instead, he nods, letting that strange instinct to let the prince in prevail just this once. “Nothing so grand as victory in battle, I’m afraid. ...there have always been people who wanted me out of the picture. I managed to avoid most of their attempts. This one, I didn’t.”

He rests his arms on Dimitri’s shoulders, now, letting his hands clasp loosely behind his neck. “You might wonder why, unlike you and Edelgard, I don’t have a retainer. I did, once, when I was a kid.” His best friend, too, at the time. His only friend, frankly. “But one day when we were alone and far away from town, he revealed his true colors, with a dagger. Left me for dead.” His eyes unfocus, looking for a moment into the past. “They told me if it wasn’t for my Crest, I really would have been.”

Dimitri's reaction isn't obvious at first. He knows better than to make a spectacle of someone else's pain, even if he's shocked, rattled straight to his core. He isn't necessarily unfamiliar with attempts on his life, though they can be counted on a hand... and they've always been strangers, in the end. Never the few people he's trusted to hold this fragile heart of his. He stills his hands against Claude's sides. Maybe that point of contact, that steady warmth of his touch, can help to ground him, just a little. "It goes without saying that I'm glad you weren't." On his face is written a moroseness so familiar to the prince himself, but probably foreign to his features, for most others. "You... put your life in someone's hands, and they took advantage of that trust. That you still can... trust others—you are remarkably strong."

Dimitri must be joking, right? That day was the day the barriers Claude put between his emotions and the outside world strengthened to full-scale walls; since then it's been impossible to take them back down, even when he might like to. Strong? Hardly. If he were truly strong, he'd have learned to _actually_ trust others with his vulnerabilities, the way Dimitri does, instead of constantly searching for ways to avoid them, or hide them, or eliminate them as factors. Like he can feel his mind doing right now.

"Ha. Fooled you, too, have I? But I do believe it's hard to accomplish anything on your own." Claude's conversation with Berith about who they can trust echoes in his mind. _Sometimes you just have a gut feeling._ He'd learned, that day so long ago, _not_ to trust his gut feelings; to hold people at arm's length for as long as it took to prove their true loyalties beyond the shadow of a doubt. Which, of course, is mostly impossible, so he ended up barely trusting anyone for a long time. Here at Garreg Mach, though...he's starting to get soft. And he's not sure whether that's a good thing or not.

"...I had a talk with Teach the other day." He plays idly with Dimitri's hair with his fingers as he talks. "Conspiracy stuff. And they asked me whether I'd ruled out the other house leaders as potential spies, and whether I had any reason to trust either of you." He shrugs. "I told them I had no reason to trust Edelgard. Much as I'd like to." He leaves the rest unsaid, hoping Dimitri will just...get it.

All of this is... well, it isn't as if it's come out of nowhere. Compared to most, Dimitri thinks, Claude's probably the most akin to a _loner_ of the three of them, though the prince was quick to assume Claude merely enjoyed keeping a smaller friend circle, that the differences in customs in the Alliance meant that he needn't make as much effort to socialize as Edelgard or Dimitri himself. Not that this isn't understandable. On the contrary, Dimitri is very much angry about this, angry for him. It's a miracle in itself he's hiding it this well. "I can't blame you." He doesn't comment on that implication for now, but that realization, that weight is apparent in his eyes, some blend of softness and surprise; he feels kind of silly, to have driven them into this sort of conversation while Claude's half naked in his bed. His hands move carefully and come now to lace his fingers together against Claude's back, arms looped around him. "As... much as even I wish to say that I could, I don't believe I can."

Claude watches Dimitri closely, hoping he’s not going to have to explain further, nor to admit that he himself was surprised to find he felt that he could trust the prince. Since Dimitri doesn’t ask, and that look in his eyes seems to speak to his understanding, Claude leaves it at that. “Mm. But enough about Edelgard.” _And about me_. He finally succumbs to the urge to gently but firmly push Dimitri back against the wall behind him with a hand on his broad, muscular chest. “I’m afraid I’m getting cold again.” He’s grinning, now. “If only I had a big, strong prince to keep me warm...”

 _Oh._ Dimitri's back hits the wall again, and he is left looking incredulously at Claude. He doesn't... mind this change in topic, not at all, regardless of how sudden it may be. It's a bit of a stretch, but Dimitri reaches forward and manages to rest his hands against Claude's thighs, just above the crooks of his knees. "You wish so badly to be warm, and yet you're sitting all the way over there?"

”You’re absolutely right - how foolish of me.” With a bit of a wicked grin, Claude shifts to straddle Dimitri’s legs, moving closer until they’re only inches apart. He never moves his hand from its spot, nor does he let up on the slight pressure. “Better?”

The prince swallows, and nods; his fingers flex against Claude's legs, squeezing briefly, feeling those lean muscles... what is this boy doing to him? That hand on his chest is _very_ distracting and it only worsens with each breath he takes. "Better."

It wasn't only a joke when Claude said he'd been getting chilly--his undershirt is sleeveless and quite thin, and the ancient building really is pretty drafty--but by the time Dimitri's gazing up at him with that look in his eyes and he can feel the prince's heart beat faster under his hand, he's feeling warmer already. "I'm ever so grateful, Your Princeliness." Teasing, as he braces himself against the wall with his other hand right beside Dimitri's head, in a reversal of their positions from that night in the classroom. Then, still pressing the prince back against the wall, he leans down to warm himself up further with Dimitri's kisses.

It's just like Dimitri, reminding himself of the irrelevant in times like this--well, more that now that it's happening, and that he has Claude in his arms (in his lap ), he can't help but think-- _is this real?_

(It very well is, if he focuses on that pressure to his chest, and lets Claude do as he pleases with him... it's a little embarrassing to think about, so he doesn't, for long.) The prince lingers until he absolutely can't, gasping softly once he separates from Claude and squirms just slightly. Dimitri's no stranger to restraining himself, but to let himself be restrained, he-- it's odd. He doesn't mind it, with Claude. When he realizes he's been doing little more than staring dumbly, he tries to clear his throat, though it comes out more as a grunt than anything else. "I, mm..."

It’s a bit of a turnaround from the first time they did this, Claude thinks, and he’s not sure which way he prefers it - not with Dimitri, anyway. There’s something to be said for letting a tall, handsome prince back you into a corner, sweep you off your feet, and kiss you; but then, there’s also something to be said for seeing this look on Dimitri’s face right now. His own breath comes quick and heavy, as he licks his lips and feels Dimitri shift a little under him. He grins when, apparently, the prince can think of nothing at all coherent to say. “Should I take that to mean that was good? I’m certainly feeling warmer already.”

"A moment." At least Claude is getting some enjoyment out of seeing him this way, in all of his confused, embarrassed pleasure. Tiredness lingers in his limbs and makes his bones feel heavier than usual, though if he weren't so worn out after their lovely evening, he... well, he'd probably only embarrass himself even more. Claude's weight on top of him is more a comfort than a tease, at this point, and so hopefully he'll be forgiven if his arms, which have now looped themselves around his waist, pull him just that much closer. "It... most certainly was. You'll have to pardon my... inexperience."

Claude sits back down and lets Dimitri pull him close, moving his arms to rest on the prince’s broad shoulders while he catches his own breath. “Inexperience? You could have fooled me. Besides, I don’t exactly have that much experience myself.” Just the self-assurance and charisma to fake it well, apparently.

"I could say the same for you." Dimitri's fingers are dipping under the hem of Claude's undershirt again, lightly grazing his back, careful, slow. He's watching closely, trying to discern Claude's comfort. "But you are almost always confident, or seem that way at least. I suppose it's little wonder I find you so charming."

Claude's grin turns into a light chuckle, pink dusting his cheeks, though he keeps holding Dimitri’s gaze steady. It’s not the sentiment, per se, but the way the prince is so ready to just express it without fear or pretense, fully genuine. It gets him every time. He seems completely comfortable with the touch, even relaxing into it. “Isn’t it usually the prince who’s supposed to be Charming? ;)” He’s not deliberately moving the conversation away from himself with humor, it’s just habit at this point.

"If it's a choice between the two of us, I feel the winner is obvious... where I can't be charming, though, I can only hope that my sincerity might make up for it." As he says this, the prince leans forward until his chin comes to rest on the other boy's shoulder. He looks up at Claude, eyes content, and tired. "I think that I love spending time with you."

Claude's not even sure how to parse the feeling that passes over him, looking down into Dimitri’s eyes with some jumble of surprise and wonder and affection. While the words that come out of his mouth are as flippant as always, his tone is a bit softer than might be expected: “You think, huh? Sounds to me like you’ll have to spend a lot more time with me to be sure.” He runs a hand through Dimitri’s hair, gently pushing it out of his face and chuckling when it just falls back down again.

"If you'll have me?" Dimitri's eyes seem to brighten, even more if such a thing is possible; his arms tighten, a brief squeeze against Claude's waist. He refrains from vocalizing that Claude should keep his hand there, in his hair, but he still thinks it.

Claude's...pretty sure he’s never in his life seen anyone look so happy at the prospect of spending time with him, and his face reddens even more. “If? I _insist_.” And Dimitri seems to like his hand in his hair, so he slowly combs his fingers through it as they talk.

"Ah, are... would you...?" Dimitri is aware, now, of the state of the two of them, how intertwined they are here in this nest of clothes and blankets and pillows. "Would it be too much for you to..."

Claude tilts his head a little at the half-question the prince is trying to ask. _Is he...?_ “Stay?” He smiles. “I’d like that.”

Claude's confirmation, his touches, it all combines to melt the prince into little more than a satisfied blob against him, enough that he closes his eyes for the briefest of moments to enjoy the hand on his head. His blush persists, but more than anything... he's glad Claude anticipated his request. He ducks his head for a moment, grinning all the while, but is quick to turn his head aside, pressing a smiling kiss against Claude's neck instead. "Thank you," he murmurs, "for humoring me."

 _Gods, how can Dimitri be so formidable and impressive sometimes and then be this impossibly cute at others?_ “Humoring you?” Claude's tone is playful, but still soft, too. “I’m humoring myself, I’ll have you know.” He leans away just a little, so he can tip Dimitri’s head back with a finger under his chin and kiss his lips, gently and briefly.

"It's-" Briefly silenced by that kiss, or muffled, at least, because he still manages to let out a pleased little sound from the back of his throat. He nearly forgets what he aimed to say. "... heartening, to know that you could... want it, as well."

”You didn’t really think I’d ask you to meet me for a date on wyvernback under the stars and then risk life and limb to kiss you out on the ice and _not_ want it, did you?” Teasing, but also serious.

"I wouldn't have let you fall." This interjection is spoken so solemnly, as if a vow. How soft Dimitri's heart feels, though, hearing such a thing. "Mm... it can be hard to believe, even when considering all of that."

”...I know you wouldn’t have.” Claude's not even teasing anymore. “If you ever doubt it, just kiss me, and you’ll believe it again.”

If Dimitri understands the premise, he makes no move to show it—he's moving suddenly instead, lifting Claude to shift their positions and only once he has Claude upon his back, pinning him, does he move to claim his lips again without a word.

Claude makes a surprised noise as Dimitri lifts him so effortlessly, that turns into a pleased, muffled hum low in his throat as the prince is suddenly above him, pressing him into the mattress and taking his breath away. His heart races; all that soft contentment he felt a moment ago has turned into some kind of urgent want - he wants Dimitri to do this all the time, doesn’t want this to end - and he gladly lets the prince do whatever he wants with him as he wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer.

There's a voice of warning in Dimitri's head, telling him that they ought to get some rest, that time and tomorrow won't wait for them because they chose to go gallivanting through the snow together and then tumble around in-- He tries to calm his kisses when he pulls away, moving instead to let those last lingering pecks drift to Claude's neck. "We ought to be getting rest," he half-sighs, half-groans, enough of a _but_ implied that he doesn't have to say the word.

Claude tilts his head back as he catches his breath, but then Dimitri's talking about rest, like he wasn't the one who started this all over again! And in such a definitive fashion, too... "What a tease," half-impressed and half-complaining. "A few more minutes won't kill us..."

"Therein lying the problem--" Dimitri's moving along the other side of his throat, now, words murmured out between kisses. "--of finding the resolve to stop."

Claude's hands come up to weave his fingers through Dimitri's hair as he closes his eyes again, shutting out anything that isn't Dimitri and those soft, tingling kisses. "Look all you like, but you'll never find it," a little breathless, "I've hidden it thoroughly."

"Have you, now." His voice comes out low against Claude's jaw. His hands fit snugly just against the solid ridges of Claude's hips and he lifts himself higher on his knees, finds the other boy's mouth again for a brief time; for all his teasing, he manages to keep himself from deepening those kisses out of habit. "Don't tempt me."

 _Oh. ...oh. That’s..._ Claude's never heard Dimitri’s voice do _that_ before. It goes from his ears all the way through him, like the purring growl of a literal lion or the sound of approaching war drums— When the prince comes back for more, he may not intend to deepen those kisses but Claude most certainly does, trying to coax Dimitri with a bit of tongue and hands pulling him down further into it. “...and what if I do?” He smirks up at the other boy, considering an attempt to shift their positions again...but actually, he quite likes the way they are now. So instead he lets his hands trail down Dimitri’s shoulders to his chest, digging his fingers into the fabric of his undershirt just a little, as though he might grab and pull at any moment.

Dimitri tells Claude not to tempt him, and what does he do? The groan in his throat is half a growl, really, and one of those hands at Claude's hips slips away and back, following the curve of his side to press against the small of his back—to pull them flush at the torso. " _Claude,_ " comes a hissed warning.

The more Dimitri warns him, the less Claude wants to listen--particularly seeing where continuing to tempt has gotten him so far. He's having a hard time remembering now what they're even talking about; that growl in Dimitri's voice sends everything flying right out of his head. "Show me," he insists, as his hands slide further down toward Dimitri's hips and then come to rest on his thighs. "Go ahead. I'm right here."

With his neighbors sleeping soundly in their beds, a voice in Dimitri's mind reasons, and at this time of night, he ought to be cautious. Neither of them could stand to have even more rumors and gossip floating around about either of them, much less of the two of them together. It's rare for him to feel enticed by a challenge, though, especially one so obvious. The prince grunts with a shallow roll of the hips, and the sheer exasperation in his sigh, in the look he gives Claude, says all. He's careful but quick in shifting his weight so that his other hand can come back up, cradling Claude's head, burying into his hair to brush his scalp before tugging him up to crush their lips together.

Claude will no doubt have such thoughts later, about rumors and dormitory rooms so close together and such, but right now he could almost believe this room is all there is, the warmth of Dimitri's body and his low voice purring in Claude's ear and his strong hands bringing them closer--just this, and nothing else. He bites his lip, holding back a groan of his own as Dimitri starts moving, and then laughs at that sigh. As though the prince weren't the one who pulled them so close to begin with! "Ah, now it looks like it's _you_ humoring _me_ \--" That's as far as he gets with his teasing before Dimitri's hand is tangled in his hair and those powerful arms are lifting him into a kiss he can only call 'aggressive,' and his words melt into a quiet noise of satisfaction against Dimitri's lips. Who needs sleep? He could do this all night.

It's mildly shameful, how willingly Dimitri lets himself give in to Claude's prodding. He doesn't bother attempting to keep everything neat or light; at this point their kiss is tongue and teeth and a tug of hair when Dimitri moves on, revisits the column of Claude's throat. He gives him a look, a brief moment of pause—and then teeth graze his skin, the prince mindful enough to glance at him, gauge his reaction, the harder he bites.

There's a part of Claude's mind still trying to figure Dimitri out, and this wilder side to the prince is fascinating--and more than a little attractive. He's too busy losing himself in it to think about it any further, though, and when Dimitri pulls away from his lips to get more creative, he gasps a bit for breath. He meets the other boy's eyes with a small nod of permission, and the sensation of Dimitri's teeth makes him arch his back a little. Seeing that questioning glance, he grins his encouragement. "Keep going," he murmurs.

It seems Claude's permission alone is enough to spark his vigor again. Dimitri focuses his attention back to that patch of skin, soothing the scrape and bite of teeth with a careful tongue, and his fingers continue their dance along the skin of Claude's back, nails dragging along the curve of his spine. "Claude." His lips brush the mark on his neck when Dimitri speaks and he takes a moment, appreciates his work... and hums in his throat, a soft and pleased growl, when he adorns it with a kiss.

Claude's about to reply, thinking Dimitri's trying to get his attention, but after a moment he realizes it sounds more like he's...saying his name just to _say_ it. And now, somehow, the prince has managed to be both wild and adorable at the same time, and it's all Claude can do not to tell him so--to tell him all the things Dimitri does that he admires and that bewitch him. It's a strange impulse, this one he's been fighting all night, to spill all of his secret thoughts regardless of what they are or what it would change if he did. He's sometimes felt that the way he's learned to keep everything to himself makes him lonely, but he's never wanted to just say _screw it_ and tell someone everything the way Dimitri makes him want to do. "...you know," he murmurs, relaxing into the prince's arms, "your name is kind of a mouthful for such an...intimate setting. ;) Have you ever had a nickname?"

 _A mouthful?_ The prince hums, shifts his weight again; Claude is laid carefully against the mattress and Dimitri atop him, with his chin to the other boy's collar. The darkening bruise near the crook of his neck looms in his peripheral. "Dima, for my friends." There's a hint of an accent to the name that isn't normally present, in his usual speaking tone. His eyes soften, though, head tilted just slightly forward. He seems... abashed. "... my family called me Mitya, at times."

 _Even his nicknames are adorable._ Claude loosely wraps his arms around Dimitri and his heartbeat slowly returns to its usual pace. "Can I call you one of them?"

It seems Dimitri actually has to consider such a question, for a moment... there's lingering huskiness in his tone when he answers, but his eyes have softened considerably, now. "If it's you, I don't mind."

Claude watches Dimitri's face carefully--he wasn't expecting the question to elicit such a serious response, but he realizes after a moment that he should have; there is, of course, a reason his uncle is the Kingdom's regent. He almost wishes he hadn't asked, but given this response...he can't regret it. "If you're sure," he says, with no teasing now.

"Mm." How odd it is, to hear Claude speak so plainly—without that amused lilt to his voice. The prince leans up briefly, quickly; the candle by the window, above the headboard of his bed, is snuffed quickly and leaves his room bathed instead in bright moonlight.

_Oh. Of course he still looks lovely._

"I am."

Claude smiles, both at the confirmation and at the way the moonlight glints in Dimitri's hair and makes those bright blue eyes seem to gleam, that pale skin seem to glow. "All right, then. Heh, didn't you say the sky was always cloudy in Fhirdiad? I bet you don't usually get moonlight like this there." He reaches out to lightly brush his fingers against Dimitri's cheek.

"We don't, no." It's never until Dimitri is near Claude that the prince realizes how devoid of touch he usually is, but even more so... Claude seems to be the only one who cares to _really_ touch Dimitri, perhaps the only one who cares to put themselves close enough. He's leaned into that touch without realizing, relishing for a moment the fleeting graze of fingertips, before he carefully settles back down on the bed. He's beside Claude now, though still pressed close, lying on his side, chest nearly flush with the other boy's arm.

 _He really does become more enchanting, in this way, in this light._ The prince is very nearly entranced. "You look..."

Claude stays on his back for now, tucking the arm farthest from Dimitri behind his head and turning a little to look at the prince, eyebrows raised expectantly and lips curled into an amused smile. "Dashing? Handsome? Like a million gold coins?"

"Beautiful." Spoken without hesitation, unfurling soft and slow from his lips. The green of Claude's eyes glows so brightly in this light and Dimitri traces with both eyes and fingertips each bend and dip of moonlight as it travels across Claude's face, along the length of his neck and to his collarbone.

 _...oh._ That is...not something anyone has ever called him before, especially not here in Fodlan. _How does this keep happening?_ Claude thinks, as his face reddens under Dimitri's wandering fingers and his amusement fades into amazement. How does the prince keep saying these things that he never thought anyone would say to him? But it's as impossible as always to think that maybe Dimitri doesn't mean it, because of course he does. He's Dimitri.

"Oh. ...ah, thanks. Heh." For what it's worth, he can't take his eyes off Dimitri's face either, but what he says is, "You know, the Riegan Crest is a crescent moon, and there are a lot of family traditions that symbolize the moon or take place at night when it's clear."

Dimitri hums again in reply. It's a little humorous, and quite charming, to watch Claude attempt to recover from his, ah... compliments. "Is that so?" comes his soft question. His fingers have found and are now toying gently with the end of Claude's braid.

 _Oh, the prince is winning again._ Claude finds he doesn't mind, although it's strange not to feel completely on top of his game for once. It only seems to happen with any regularity around Dimitri, and he's not sure what that means, but he kind of likes it. "It is. For instance, they say if you kiss a Riegan under the moonlight, you receive good fortune for a month." To his credit, he turned that into an opportunity for flirting pretty fast.

"A month, you say?" Dimitri... pauses, when his thumb grazes Claude's chin. "In that case, I suspect I've guaranteed myself good fortune for quite some time to come," he murmurs. There's a subtle dart of a tongue to wet his own lips, there.

"Ah, but it has to be _only_ moonlight. No candles or lamps." The small movement draws his attention to Dimitri's lips, though he manages to stop himself from dispensing with the tease to just grab the prince and kiss him. Instead, he says, "And it works best when it's a tall, fair, handsome prince. The fairest one in all the land."

"Oh, only in moonlight." Dimitri considers, eyes flickering across Claude's expression—the thumb on his chin moves now to brush lightly across the his bottom lip. "I have much catching up to do."

When Dimitri lowers himself, nears Claude to kiss him again, the warmth in his blood is smoother and calmer than earlier and his kisses are languid; his arm moves and he's tucking Claude close to himself, sated by the warmth he finds here... he's done decently at keeping himself under control, by the time Dimitri pulls away for breath.

Claude closes his eyes and leans into both the slow kisses and Dimitri's embrace, feeling strangely serene. When they part, he sighs with a smile that's half-contented and half-smirk. "That's a good start. And, being the fairest prince in all the land, you've got an advantage. ;)" He nestles close to Dimitri, searching with his free hand to find its counterpart. Having been this close to the prince all this time, he finds he's not even cold, despite the room's chill.

"Hardly..." This close together, there isn't much Dimitri can do to hide the redness of his face. After a moment of lazy debate with himself, he moves just enough to reach for one of the blankets they'd discarded earlier, and drags it to cover the both of them haphazardly. His sleepiness is already taking over, he can feel it by the moment... "Thank you, Claude." It's whispered, their breaths mingling across the pillow with how close they are, now. "I've enjoyed this night... more than..."

The prince has enjoyed himself more this night than he has in a long, long time.

Claude turns to lie facing Dimitri, sliding his other arm around the prince's waist with a warm smile so he can watch those blue eyes close. "...me too. Sweet dreams, Dima." Usually, when he wants to call Dimitri something else, he goes with teasing titles. This name feels much more personal to say, and although it's still a bit unfamiliar, he likes the way it rolls off his tongue. Soon, he's closing his eyes again too, and while he often has trouble falling asleep at night, tonight the warmth and comfort of Dimitri's arms make it easy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night of companionship between Lions and Deer by the campfire goes wrong quickly when an unseen killer strikes. Dimitri and Berith do everything they can to save Claude's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mission they're returning from at the beginning is Hilda and Cyril's paralogue.

Well. That...could have gone worse, Claude thinks, as their little entourage makes its way back through Goneril territory. They left Hilda behind for now to look after her brother and wrap things up at Fodlan's Locket, after fending off a "raid" from the Almyran side of the border, and although Claude did not want to come on this trip, he couldn't come up with an excuse good enough to stay behind while the rest of the Deer went along that wouldn't rouse suspicions. So he came and he fought, although he convinced Berith to let him man a ballista instead of taking the field directly so he wouldn't risk getting recognized. And it was...fine. Unpleasant, listening to Goneril soldiers pat themselves on the back for putting down the "eastern menace's barbaric incursion" with "bravery and skill." Unpleasant, hoping no one noticed how frequently he aimed his shots shy of killing blows (they never did, or if they did at least they never said anything). But fine. And he's...fine.

At least, that's what he tells himself, as they ride together with a few of the Blue Lions who came along to support their housemate, Cyril, who insisted on joining Hilda to make sure no children were captured into Goneril servitude, the way Cyril himself had been once. Claude tries not to feel vindicated by the boy's awful story, but...a part of him does. It's not just him. He's not the only Almyran unhappy with the way things are.

He's mostly content to listen to the chattering of the others around him right now instead of participating in it. Raphael and Ingrid are having a spirited debate about the best meat dishes at the monastery dining hall, while Leonie puts Sylvain in his place after he tried to flirt with her, and Annette and Mercedes grill Ignatz about his painting with enthusiasm. Claude has to admit that there _is_ one major plus side to having come along, which is getting to take a nice long horseback ride with Dimitri, even if they've had to keep each other at arm's length for propriety's sake. For right now, though, everyone seems relaxed enough not to pay too much mind to him urging his horse over to ride alongside the prince...except Teach, whose eyes he can feel on him like always. But he finds he minds that less than perhaps he should. "Hey, Your Princeliness. That was some battle, wasn't it?" He wears his easy smile.  
  
Dimitri isn't expecting conversation so soon after their fight, from the look on his face once Claude rides up alongside him. It's not unwelcome though, and he smiles, a tad more reserved than usual after his exertion on the field. "Certainly a way to put it." He sports a few wounds a tad too significant for Faith to heal on its own, though nothing that could prevent him from walking it off until they've reached their lodgings. He gives the boy beside him a once-over and hopes that his own condition is the worse between them... but he seems unhurt. "And it would appear our compatriots are none the worse for wear--" It strikes him suddenly, the similarities between their battle here and the 'incursions' House Blaiddyd fought off from their own border, though he supposes there has never been as much fighting in the latter. His sigh is quiet, but the prince doesn't let his shoulders fall. He can't bear this. "Cyril, too, seemed quite relieved."  
  
Claude nods, watching Dimitri’s reaction carefully. “It went better than it could have, that’s for sure.” _Careful..._ “I’ve heard from the Roundtable that it can sometimes get vicious. Though it’s been quieter lately anyway, ever since Holst took over Fodlan’s Locket.” He shakes his head. "But enough about that. The weather is getting warmer, we've got a nice ride ahead of us, and we'll get to watch a spectacular sunset in not too long now. Nothing like spending time out in the great outdoors to clear your mind, right?" He offers a slightly wider smile this time. Seems both of them could use some distraction right now. Too bad they have to stick to talking...  
  
An odd phrasing, on Claude's part. Dimitri won't push him on it; he figures they're both more tired from today than either is willing to let on. He nods, and hums his agreement. "It will be... interesting, certainly. I was a little surprised to hear that your professor would have us make camp, but it's most certainly cheaper than rooming all of us an an inn, I suppose." Not that Dimitri minds either. The climate here is nigh on perfect for it and, well. His sleep on this night will likely stay the same, regardless of whether he has a roof over his head or not.  
  
Claude laughs. "Considering what usually happens when we get all the Deer together after dark, 'interesting' definitely sounds like the right word for adding Blue Lions and a campfire to it. But Teach has a thing for sleepovers, I think. That classroom pillow fort was their idea, too."  
  
"Really now?" That's... a surprising thing to know now, especially as Dimitri turns to glance at said professor and-- oh. They're being watched. The prince turns his gaze ahead again, and tries to scrub the image of those eyes boring into him from his mind.

Claude follows Dimitri's glance and chuckles as he turns back to the prince. "You get used to that."

The look Dimitri shoots Claude asks everything— _do you really?_ "I suppose it's nice, to surround yourself with friends and create your own little world for a while." Unbeknownst to the prince, his thoughts don't differ so greatly from Claude's, once he begins to wonder if there will be any privacy to be found in the camp they make...  
  
_Create your own little world, huh? If only..._ It took Claude some effort to get over the idea of deliberately sleeping close to other people he can't entirely trust, in a room without a locked door. Having Berith and Hilda there helped. This, he thinks, is a little easier; more people, yes, but camping in the middle of nowhere means your location's unpredictable. Or at least, that's the idea. "Maybe Teach just likes to watch us sleep." He grins, to show he's joking--well, not joking exactly. More like reassuring. "I've always loved camping, myself. Sleeping under the stars, listening to all the nocturnal animals as you drift off to sleep in the arms of Mother Nature...it's soothing."  
  
Claude's joke doesn't quite help, but at least it's clear that it is a joke. Most likely. "As you can imagine, camping isn't really a thing in Faerghus unless absolutely necessary. A leisurely trip can just as easily spell death, at home." _If the weather doesn't get you, then the animals most certainly will._ "But I suppose I can see the appeal, when camping in lands that aren't attempting to kill you at every turn, mn?"  
  
"You keep saying I should visit Faerghus, but you're not making it sound like a very friendly place to visit. Or to live, for that matter." Claude stretches with a bit of a yawn.  
  
"Oh, on the contrary. Faerghus is just fine, so long as you stay indoors." From his experience with Claude in the snow, Dimitri's confident it would be for the best to keep him indoors as much as possible... if he ever actually did visit him in Fhirdiad.

"Cooped up indoors the whole time, huh? Whatever shall I do to keep myself occupied?" Claude grins again, and this time there's a certain twinkle in his eye.

"Well, there's..." In response to a totally separate conversation, the laughter of Leonie, Ingrid, and Raphael rings out from nearby... far too close to respond in kind. "... plenty. We're a people that live predominantly inside, after all."

Claude chuckles quietly. "We'll have to go camping sometime in the woods outside Garreg Mach. Nice and safe, if you don't count breaking curfew as a danger. ;)"

"Well... I suppose were we to attempt it at a fairer time of year, it wouldn't be so bad. Hardly an exotic locale, though."

"True enough, though I can attest from personal experience that the ground in those woods is a _great_ place for a midday nap." Claude puts a hand to his chin in thought. "If you want something a little different, there's a nice stretch of forest between Daphnel and Riegan territories that's good for hunting, too."

Dimitri wouldn't be averse to returning to the Alliance sometime, he thinks. "Mn, hunting for sport becomes a difficult thing. Regulations in Faerghus are quite strict about hunting except for when necessary for food, or supplies. Though, I suppose..."  
  
"You suppose...? I'm not sure I'd want to go hunting in Faerghus, anyway, though. That sounds like a great way to freeze to death!"  
  
"I would not allow you to freeze to death." Unlike the last time he made such a statement, Dimitri says this utterly casually. "So long as you're properly outfitted, you will be fine."  
  
Claude can't help remembering the time Dimitri let him wear his scarf, warm and soft...watching the prince glide and spin on the ice...he clears his throat, hoping he's not suddenly blushing. "If you say so. Forgive me if I remain skeptical--you weren't shy about telling me how much the land itself will want me dead."  
  
"I assure you that the walls of Fhirdiad are safe." As if that would really keep Claude from visiting him, surely-- "Ah. There, Claude—your sunset." Dimitri nods to the horizon on his right and takes a moment himself to watch the sky shift gradually; the clouds, now, are painted in pinks and oranges.  
  
"All right, I'll hold you to that when I get there." Claude turns to look too, his smirk relaxing into a serene smile. "Beautiful, isn't it?" And now he's remembering the last time he heard Dimitri use that word-- _stop getting distracted, you're not going to last a whole night at camp with him at this rate..._

As dusk comes on, Berith calls a halt to set up camp, and Claude's hard-pressed to keep his eyes off the heavens even as he's busy helping with the fire. The sun goes down in a clear sky and soon the stars are peeking down between the canopy of the trees, moonlight dappling the grass underfoot. Leonie and Dedue cook supper together, and Claude finds himself feeling warm inside even as the night's chill drives him close to the fire, to see the two houses mingling so easily like this. The Academy might separate the students by place of origin, but they don't have to stay that way--ultimately, they have much more in common than not. It's nice.  
  
Dimitri, too, is glad to busy himself in preparing their camp, namely in helping to better clear their area to make room for seating and to help unload what supplies they've been able to bring on horseback. Once it's been deemed they have enough wood for their fires, though, the prince has little to do but sit with his own little pile of supplies to take stock, reorganizing and sorting it all back into his pack, taking out what he'll need. He has a few sets of gloves and cloaks of his own, extras considering they all were told to bring their own, but he doesn't doubt that some will need the extra warmth once the night grows long and cold. It's for their sakes, too, that he's positioned himself a little farther from the fire... some of the students from the Alliance will no doubt need spaces closer to the heat.  
  
After they all eat and the cleaning up is finished, Mercedes tells a ghost story to scare the pants off everyone, though Claude's only half-listening. After a few minutes, he takes the opportunity while everyone is absorbed in the tale--and thus, paying little attention to him--to go sit next to Dimitri. It means getting farther from the fire, but the prince has told him several times now that he doesn't intend to let Claude freeze, and he plans to take Dimitri at his word. "She's good at this."  
  
"Hm? Oh, yes." Dimitri lifts his eyes from the vials in his lap, glancing at Mercedes with a smile. "She enjoys scary stories, though more than anything, I believe she enjoys scaring Annette and Ashe with them... it's getting quite cold, though, Claude. You likely shouldn't be stepping away from the fire." And it isn't meant to be an insult, merely a concerned observation. Dimitri's brows furrow just slightly, once he notices that Claude is wearing nothing extra outside of the light travel cloak he's had on since their return from the border.  
  
"Ha! Well, she can add Lysithea to that list, too. I never knew Mercedes had it in her." Claude gives her another look, impressed by this mischievous side to her as well as her storytelling, now. But indeed, Dimitri's right--he's already huddling in his cloak. "Hey, if you were sitting closer to the fire, I wouldn't have to. ;)"  
  
"I sat this far away so that _you_ all might have room to sit closer..." But he isn't really complaining. Dimitri carefully moves aside the vials in his lap, leans over to his side; the pile of extra clothing is sat on top of his satchel, and Dimitri carefully drags out a cloak. He's aware of their proximity to their classmates, so he moves merely to offer it to him, as opposed to draping it upon Claude's shoulders himself... "Will this be of help?"  
  
Of course Dimitri brought extra cloaks. And of course he was making room near the fire for the Alliance students. "Very much so. Thanks, Dimitri. I'm sure the rest of the Deer appreciate your gesture, too." Claude pulls the thicker cloak around himself and sighs. "It's a shame we don't have the excuse to do this kind of thing more often."

"What, you mean...?" Dimitri assumes Claude means camping, but if he's referring to having a... semi-private moment with one another, that's also something he'll never complain about.

”All of this, really. Camping, spending time all together without worrying about house or allegiance.” Claude gives Dimitri a glance that says, _yes, this too_ \- though he doesn’t say so. He peers over, then, at these vials Dimitri set aside. "What's all that?"

Dimitri looks back to the bottles spread before him."Assorted elixirs and healing potions and the like. I... always carry extra with me." And has been called a worrywart for it by the likes of Sylvain. Dimitri rubs at his neck with a smile. "And, well..." His eyes dart up, back to the fires where their classmates still linger. They seem thoroughly enraptured by Mercedes' tales, so... "I was preparing my medicine, as well."  
  
“Huh, I didn’t know you had an interest in potions. I dabble in alchemy and whatnot myself.” Claude seems about to reach over and pick up one of the vials to examine it more closely, but pauses to look back at the prince again instead. “Medicine?” He keeps his voice down, seeing that look. “What for?”  
  
"For my hands." The one time that Claude's seen him without his gloves, they were quite busy; Dimitri realizes only now that he must not have taken notice. He waits a few beats, makes certain they have no eyes upon them, before he carefully removes the gauntlets and gloves from his hands, a slow process.

When the prince's hands are bared, his hesitation is a little more obvious. The scarring on his skin is extensive and leaves no inch of his hands untouched, bearing the odd patterns of burning from fingertips to the point where his arms vanish beneath his sleeves. "Every once in a while—especially after intense battles... I must apply it."  
  
Claude watches, frowning with concern. He, too, glances around to make sure no one's paying attention, almost more out of reflex than anything, before reaching over to very gently take one of Dimitri's hands in his own. His fingers barely brush the scarred skin, giving the prince ample chance to pull back if he wants to. "Dima...what happened?"  
  
"Ah. This is... from Duscur." His voice is low, expression carefully controlled. He's gentle in reaching his other hand, moving for one vial in particular, half-filled with a deep amber liquid, and unstopping its cork. "They were inflicted by magecraft, so they will never heal properly. All I can truly do is prevent them from... opening again, I suppose?" It is, as always, cold as ice once those first drops hit his palm. "I apologize, it certainly isn't the most pleasant of things to look at."  
  
"I asked." Claude looks up to meet Dimitri's eyes. "Would you mind some help?"  
  
Dimitri isn't expecting the look in Claude's eye, a subtle sort of intensity that sparks a brief rise of gooseflesh under his sleeves. Dimitri looks away. How much of his past will he burden Claude with before he refuses to have any more? "If... you wish."  
  
Claude's movements are gentle but sure, as though he's no stranger to first aid, although Dimitri's never seen him take such a role on the battlefield at the Academy. He massages the ointment into the flesh of the prince's hands a little at a time, making sure to cover every inch of the scarred skin and pushing his sleeves up where he needs to in order to reach the full extent of it. There comes a point during this time when he stops paying much attention to whether anyone might be watching them or not; he just...forgets to, absorbed in his task. In truth, he's rarely ever used his amateur first aid experience to treat anyone other than himself. Doing it now for Dimitri, in the woods under the moon, lit by flickering firelight and sitting close to him, bundled in his cloak at a slight remove from the crowd...there's something strangely intimate about it all, as though a spell has been cast.

It aches, Dimitri thinks, watching the way that Claude handles him. There's such care in it, his touch so gentle and his work thorough. The last person who's helped him with this would have to be Dedue, he thinks, back when the wounds were too fresh for Dimitri to medicate them on his own...

Eventually, the spell breaks when Claude's finished his work and hands the vial back, finally looking back up at the prince with a small smile. "I hope I did it right." His tone and his expression say 'thank you for sharing this with me,' but he doesn't say it aloud.  
  
"You did." There's a slight croak in Dimitri's voice when he answers. He takes the vial and very carefully slips it into his bag again, followed by the rest he has yet to sort through. "And... you have my thanks, Claude."  
  
"You're welcome." Claude pulls his hands back under the cloak and only then remembers to cast his gaze back to the fire to see how everyone else is getting on. From the look of things, Mercedes is just finishing up her tale and everyone is completely rapt, although he could swear he saw Teach looking over at him--but it's hard to tell.

Once the story is finished, Berith declares that it's time for sleep, so they can wake with the dawn and finish their march back to the monastery. Everyone chatters as they prepare their bedrolls and bundle up in blankets, several people complaining that there's no way they can fall asleep after hearing such a terrifying story...! But in the end, a peaceful quiet descends on the camp, as one by one the students do find slumber. Claude does end up sleeping a little closer to the fire than where they've been sitting, knowing its heat will dwindle as the night goes on, though he doesn't give back Dimitri's cloak just yet either--he plans to keep it until morning.

It's the dead of night before something dares to interrupt the quiet, in near-complete darkness as clouds have covered the moon and stars, and the fire's embers burn low. Claude almost always wakes abruptly--he's not a heavy sleeper and he's trained himself to react quickly upon waking, just in case. But he usually doesn't wake _quite_ as abruptly as he does tonight. He wakes to _pain_.

He barely has time to process what's happening. All he knows is the searing pain that starts in his shoulder but quickly spreads, and a sudden warmth that registers as probably blood, and a dizziness that kicks in almost immediately, blurring his vision. He jerks to a sitting position but can't stay there, collapsing again onto his side as a kind of numb weakness chases the pain through his body. "T-teach..." he croaks out after a moment, but he thinks it might be too soft for anyone to wake up...he knows he's about to lose consciousness again, he can feel himself beginning to tip back into that pit. The last thing he manages to do is pull his fingers to his lips and whistle, shrill and loud, hoping it will wake someone.

But he doesn't stay conscious long enough to find out.

* * *

Dimitri isn't the only one startled awake, but the first thing he sees is the professor. Their dying campfire roars to life in a burst of Reason and Dimitri, sleep-deprived and already running on adrenaline, meets Berith's eyes only for a moment. "Everyone up," he calls and pushes himself to his feet; he must have slept with his weapon nearby for the lance to already hang in his hand. Some are faster than others in waking, but the professor moves their gaze to the treeline, scanning. The prince's eyes stop on each of his classmates, ascertaining wakefulness and injuries before he comes to see--

"Claude?" Berith turns to Dimitri in his peripheral. There isn't a way in this world he wouldn't awaken after this and the prince is immediately shoving carefully between students, kneeling down at Claude's side—his shoulder...  
  
"Professor, he's hurt!" His vials are too far away, but Mercedes is beside him in but a moment. The wound would be subtle had it not bled so much: even the cloak Claude wears is soaked through there, but it's- the arrow in his shoulder is shorter than most. The prince bolts to his feet and turns to the treeline for only a beat. "A sniper in the forest, professor." He doesn't say more. Time is of the essence and it's with this thought that Dimitri darts into the trees, ignores the calls of his classmates. Mercedes is capable in healing, and he hears even the professor was a quick study in Faith once they came to the monastery. This, though, is the work that Dimitri is suited for—he isn't quiet running through the underbrush, but he's _fast_ , faster apparently than his prey in the end. He's far from their camp by the time he pins down Claude's aggressor, and the distance ensures that he feels no hesitation, once his lance finds its target.

When he returns, nerves alight with the remnants of his rage and adrenaline and dragging the body behind him, as if it weighed nothing, he sees the professor sat by Claude, the glow of their Faith outshining the light of the fire. Dimitri's face goes ashen. "Claude..."  
  
This is the part of battle that Lorenz hates the most: the march. He hates sleeping outdoors, the lack of privacy. He hates how easily he wakes up, and how frequently. So when a shrill whistle and the subsequent activity rouses him from his slumber, his first thought is one of irritation. But soon, seeing what's transpired, he goes pale and quiet, sitting by the fire and watching as Mercedes and then the Professor work to keep Claude alive...and as the Prince of Faerghus disappears into the trees with his lance like a charging bull, before anyone else has even gathered their wits enough to react. He's never had the pleasure of speaking much with the prince, but what he hears leads him to believe that Dimitri is a model of nobility, if a bit too...well, Faerghus, for Lorenz's liking. It's quite humbling, in a way, to see such an act of bravery, although going off alone in a dangerous situation is foolish, particularly when one is not just any noble but a royal heir...still, Lorenz can't quite bring himself to follow. He doesn't believe he could keep up with the prince anyway, even if he tried.

So he's relieved to see Dimitri return unharmed, if a bit shaken to see him dragging a bloody corpse as though he were simply carrying a piece of luggage. What shakes him further--enough that he can't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth before he has a chance to think about them--is that the face of the corpse is familiar. "...wait...I know that man."  
  
The prince's attention falls to Lorenz in a second. "You... know him?" Miraculously, Dimitri doesn't immediately round on him regardless of the implication, though his grip on the body tightens enough for his gauntlet to creak. "What do you mean you know him?" Claude's would-be killer-– _no. Claude will be fine._ _The professor is here practically drowning him in healing magic._ Dimitri forces his grip to ease, if slightly.  
  
Lorenz's eyes widen to see the way the prince is looking at him. “Well, I— That is, I don’t _know_ him, but I have seen him before...” _Oh. Oh no._ He remembers now, and the implications are...he pales even further, obvious horror and fear on his face. He hesitates, unable for the moment to force the words out to explain further.  
  
It isn't Dimitri who reaches out to Lorenz first, but Berith—only after making certain that Mercedes feels up to taking their place, that she has the magic left in her. The professor places their hand, careful, on Lorenz's shoulder to find his attention. 'Seen where?' Their signing, as always, is calm. The last thing any of them need is Lorenz clamming up on them.  
  
Lorenz turns to the Professor, somewhat ashamed of how grateful he is for an excuse to look away from Dimitri’s piercing gaze. “Ah...” He clears his throat and draws himself up. This hesitation is unbecoming, he scolds himself. “At the Gloucester estate. I have only seen him once or twice. I did not pay him much mind; my father meets with many people who come and go, and I assumed he was simply another of them. I never exchanged words with him, nor do I know his name.”  
  
'If possible, you should speak to him.' No more, no less: the professor isn't out to make any implications, it would seem. By the time Dimitri has deposited the body away from their camp but nearby, wrapped in the man's own cloak, Berith has already moved back to kneel beside Claude. They hold him up carefully to look at his shoulder, now bare of his cloak and overclothes and devoid of the arrow that pierced him. It's... more severe than it ought to be for something that size, and it's a grim realization.

'Poison on the arrow. Don't touch it.'

”You mean...speak to my father?” The words taste like ash in Lorenz's mouth. “About...this?”  
  
'There's a good chance he may know who this person is.' And it isn't as if they have any other leads. 'We split. A group to get him back. A group to clean up here and follow behind.'  
  
"Professor, if I may—I wish to take him." It's more that Dimitri refuses to take his eyes off of Claude, now; his gaze bores through the hole in his shoulder. "Aramis will have no problem carrying us both, nor will I have issue carrying him."  
  
The professor turns to him, unblinking, considering... before turning back to the fire, to kneel and gather the clothes they've thus far stripped Claude of. They're bundled into the satchel he brought along, and then summarily handed to the prince. 'Take your class. Get him to the monastery.' And not a word more before they move to begin preparing their camp.  
  
Felix eyes Dimitri, sword still in hand after he drew it to stand guard over the camp as the boar predictably rampaged through the trees. “Why are we taking responsibility for their house leader? Shouldn’t we search the woods just in case this assassin wasn’t alone?”  
  
Lorenz flinches at the word ‘assassin.’ Surely, though, this man wasn’t in his father’s employ for _this_. ...right?  
  
"He'll need capable guards, Felix, and our training has equipped us quite well for fighting on horseback, has it not?" Dimitri points out. "Besides... I am one of few who could carry him safely and continue to fight. If he truly is poisoned, then it's essential we return him to the monastery for examination as quickly and safely as possible."  
  
Felix gives a pointed glance to Raphael—it’s not like the archer could weigh much, comparatively—but doesn’t care enough to argue over it. “Fine. I’ll ride in the rear position to watch our backs.”  
  
Dimitri can only smile at this, of course, because it's almost enough to feel a little normal again... when he turns to see the professor approaching with Claude in their arms, though, he's quick to sober. He moves to take Aramis by the reins and leads him closer, mounts him with care. How careful he is when he takes Claude into his arms, settles the other boy on the saddle in front of him... "We'll be sure to get him to Garreg Mach safely, professor. You may be assured of that." Once the other Lions are prepared, Dimitri sets off with haste—and Claude held carefully in his grasp.

* * *

It's an hour or two later before all that Faith does its work well enough for Claude to regain a semblance of consciousness, though he's still only half-awake when he blinks his eyes open and tries to grasp what's going on. Everything's still blurry...that's not a good sign...but he can tell there's someone with him, and he can tell they're in motion. "...wh...where am I..."  
  
As monotonous as the ride has been, Dimitri's been on high alert throughout it; when Claude stirs, he notices. "Claude." He keeps his voice quiet, though there's no less urgency there. He's sitting with an arm wrapped around the other boy to keep him close, and it squeezes, gingerly, at the sound of his words. "Are you with me, Claude?"  
  
"...Dimitri?" Claude immediately relaxes, letting out a sigh of relief. If Dimitri's here, his half-conscious mind thinks, then he's safe. "...glad...it's you."  
  
It isn't the response Dimitri's expecting, not that his traitorous heart can find the means to rein itself in. "We're going to get you back to the academy, alright? They'll patch you up, as good as new."  
  
Claude doesn't have the wherewithal to wonder why it's Dimitri taking him back to the monastery or whether the assailant attacked anyone else. All he can focus on is the warmth of the arm around him, strong and secure, and the rhythmic lull of the horse's hooves. "mm-hmm...poison, though...can't see. Dima...stay with me...?"  
  
"I won't be going anywhere. I promise you." Dimitri thinks back to the corpse he left at their campsite, and draws Claude impossibly closer. "Rest for now. I'll be right here. And I will be beside you when you awaken as well. I swear it."  
  
Claude manages a nod before he drifts back into slumber, leaning back against the prince and, without the alertness to second-guess the instinct, trusting that Dimitri will keep his word.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude wakes up in the infirmary to a distressing realization; Dimitri promises to help and to keep watch. When Berith arrives, it's a tiny bit awkward. The three of them put the clues together in an attempt to figure out who made the attempt on Claude's life, and why.

From their arrival at the monastery, time blurs. Once their state is made clear to the guards on watch, it's a rush to find helping hands, though not for a moment does the prince think to hand Claude off to anyone, regardless of whoever should insist otherwise. He makes his way to the infirmary with haste, moves as directed to lower Claude onto a cot... and lingers there, if a few beds over to be certain that the healers have their room to work.

It's... hard. To sit by and watch idly, to fret without a means of helping Claude or assuaging his own fears, but he did promise to be there, waiting for when he woke up. Only once the infirmary clears does Dimitri dare to let his attention drift elsewhere, and it's upon the cot next to Claude's that he begins to drift asleep...

Claude sleeps for another few hours, fitful but uninterrupted. When he opens his eyes again, waking fully, it's just after dawn...and he can see the light coming through the window, but beyond that...just vague, blurry shapes. That's a _very_ bad sign. Panic sets in as he struggles to sit up, only to reach out a hand to steady himself against the bedside table when a wave of dizziness hits. He can't...protect himself like this. An archer who can't see his target is useless.

From the sounds and sort of familiar smells, and context, he can deduce that he must be in the infirmary. He half-remembers waking on the road...and wasn't--? "...Dimitri?" he tries, softly.

Dimitri startles at the call of his name. "Claude?" Dimitri pushes himself up, practically stumbling from the cot in his rush and very nearly clipping his thigh on the nightstand-- "Claude, how are you feeling?"

Claude's surprised at the rush of relief that goes through him, hearing Dimitri's voice. Huh. Outwardly, he schools his expression, forcing himself to smile and turn his gaze toward the...blurry shadow that's probably Dimitri. His eyes are clearly unfocused, though. "I've been better. Been worse, too, so it's not all bad."

Claude's... lucid enough that he can be this evasive, which Dimitri supposes is something of a blessing. There are chairs in the room, for visitors, and Dimitri briefly moves to fetch one and place it at Claude's bedside. When he's closer, and can notice the odd look in Claude's eyes, the lack of focus in his gaze when their eyes do finally meet, something comes back to the prince. Though they're alone, his voice lowers. "Can you still... not see well?"

Claude hesitates, then shakes his head. He must have said something to Dimitri about it before, but he barely remembers that conversation. "I'm afraid not." Quietly as well. "What do we know?"

 _That complicates things. Greatly._ Dimitri sighs and moves his gaze briefly to the door, then back to Claude. "Little, I'm afraid. I was... able to detain your assailant, and Lorenz did happen to recognize him. Apparently he's seen the man at his family's estate, once before... whether anything else has been found, I can't be certain. We split into two groups, and as far as I am aware, the professor's group has yet to return..."

Claude's silent a moment, processing this. "...I can't say I'd be surprised if it turns out Count Gloucester had something to do with it. I'd _like_ to say I'd be surprised to hear that Lorenz did, but..." He trails off. He really hopes Lorenz didn't. He doesn't like the guy, but he's thought they've been getting along a little better lately, and the more allies he has among the nobility, the better. "Teach isn't here?"

"Not yet, no. They stayed behind. To clean up the remnants of our camp, and I would assume to investigate further as well. The rest of your class remained with them. As for Lorenz... he seemed genuinely shocked to have recognized the man at all. I cannot claim to know him very well, I know... but it did not appear to be the shock of accusation that affected him."

"That's...something, I suppose. Lorenz isn't much of a liar." He takes Dimitri's observation with a grain of salt, though. The prince has been known to trust too easily. Claude's come to find it refreshing--even charming--but it's still a potential gap in his defenses, if he's to rely on Dimitri for help. Which, for now at least, he supposes he must. The thought scares him, frankly. "Have you...been here this whole time? How long was I out?"

"Somewhere approaching... six or seven hours, I would say." The mere mention of time makes Dimitri feel worn, though there's no point in showing Claude any of that. The prince, for now, will keep his yawning to himself. "We met no opposition during our return journey. The church has seen fit to guard the corridor, as well." He still isn't content with this, though. Were it that he needn't leave Claude's side...

"Whew. I was afraid you were going to say a whole day or something." Not that Claude can accomplish much in this state anyway...he still feels a strange numbness, too, as though the blood running through his veins is cold. He doesn't mention that. "That's thoughtful of the Church." It's not as comforting as Dimitri probably thinks it is.

"Forgive me, I--" Dimitri's confident enough in their privacy, and so he moves to take the other boy's hand in his. "Today... terrified me."

Claude's a little surprised to feel Dimitri take his hand, and a little more surprised to hear what he's saying. He closes his own hand around the prince's readily, though. "What do you mean?"

 _'What do I mean?'_ "I awoke this morning to see you injured and unconscious by unknown means, and then to see that Faith did so little to heal it..." As if poisoning is such a light thing. As if Claude being hurt is a light thing. He brings Claude's hand to his forehead, and lets slip a silent sigh, once his face is obscured. "I was afraid. Worse so, I am torn between staying here with you and finding the scum behind this myself." He would do worse, much worse than what he'd done to the corpse left behind in the woods, Dimitri thinks. It isn't so casual a realization to have.

A few responses flit immediately through Claude's mind, but he doesn't say any of them, because they're all too flippant, along the lines of 'Gee, Your Princeliness, I didn't realize you cared so much.' That's a lie, besides, if he's being honest with himself; he just hasn't been prepared to accept that someone might. Because if he accepts that, then he has to accept the sneaking suspicion he has that it's mutual, if he were to really think about it. And he shouldn't do that. And it shouldn't be. This is dangerous.

And yet, from the sound of things, if it weren't for Dimitri they might not have found the attacker at all. And when Claude heard Dimitri's voice upon waking, he felt safer. Still, it feels like a weakness, to know he's relying on this kind of sentiment. To know that if something were to happen to the prince, he might end up terrified, too. "...well, I appreciate everything you've done," is what he eventually decides to say, softly. "Thanks for being here, Dima."

"Of course... I am glad to be." Dimitri's tiredness must be catching up to him, he thinks, because for a moment his shoulders feel heavier than before. The wear of his past day must be upon him. "I cannot speak to what they were able to ascertain so far, concerning your injury... but I believe it would be wise for you to rest for now, if you can."

 _Oh, this is going to be a problem._ Claude's having a hard time telling whether that's disappointment, hesitation, or just fatigue in Dimitri's voice, without being able to see his face or body language. Wait, he wasn't _awake_ that whole time, was he? "I just woke up. And if you're about to suggest I spend this entire convalescence asleep, I'm going to have to stop you right there." He's smiling again. "I'm wide awake now, I promise. But _you_ sound tired. Are you okay?"

There's a part of Claude that wants to invite Dimitri to join him on the cot. The prince wasn't the only one who was terrified, and Claude still is, loath as he is to admit it. He can't very well ask Dimitri to stay here the whole time, though, that's obviously out of the question. He's got a whole class to lead and his own studies and training to attend to; and who knows how long it will take before this poison works its way out of his system? ...assuming it does at all. It must be pretty potent for Faith not to be able to mitigate its effects more than this. Which means it's probably pretty rare...which means it would take a lot of money to obtain. He wishes he could see the damn arrow...

"Wait a second. Did they keep the arrow?"

"The arrow... I can't say for certain. I wasn't there when the professor removed it from your shoulder." With what Dimitri's been told of the professor, though, if Claude sees some sort of value in keeping the arrow... The prince's silence is pointed as he stands, begins to pace the infirmary. "I was only able to inspect the body itself. I could find no identifying markings or insignia, obviously, though from what I could see... the weapons on it at the time were utterly nondescript, unfortunately. A common bow and dagger you could likely procure from any supply. As to your arrow, we will have to wait for the professor, I suppose."

Claude bites his tongue to keep from protesting when Dimitri lets go of his hand to go pace around. "I'll ask Teach when they get back, then. But you avoided my first question, Your Princeliness."

"Yes, I was awake. I was hardly in a state to sleep." Claude can't discern any look Dimitri could give him, so he refrains. His thoughts never stray far from the topic at hand, and so his pacing continues. "While I can't speak certainly, we ran into no other aggressors on our journey back, which would lead me to believe they had no intention of engaging with any of us. I remember you mentioning before... a previous attempt, in your childhood. I assume the motivation is similar, but..."

Claude puts on his smile again, though he feels it not at all. "More than one, actually. And this isn't the only one in recent years, either. Which just goes to show you that they can't get rid of me that easily." He shrugs a bit. "House Riegan was on the brink of collapse when it recognized me as its legitimate heir. A lot of plots were already in motion to take over its position on the Roundtable once my grandfather dies. I threw a wrench into every one of them. It's only natural, I suppose." His tone makes it sound casual, but he's well aware there are more reasons than that. He doesn't plan to mention them if he doesn't have to.

It's haunting, how Claude speaks casually of such attempts on his life. Coupled with everything else... Dimitri is not fond of this conversation. Not at all. "We'll have little way of determining where this attack came from, then, unless Lorenz can provide us with more information... I understand."

"We'll figure it out. But it sounds like you're the one who ought to be getting some rest." Claude hesitates for a moment. When he speaks, his demeanor is carefully nonchalant, but he's not doing as good a job as usual of hiding what's under that mask. He doesn't want Dimitri to leave. He can't say so in as many words. "I'm sure you have plenty of important things to do and I don't want to keep you from them. ...but if you wanted to rest here first, I wouldn't complain." He pats the cot beside him.

Claude's words are... disarming. Or they would be, had the prince's own paranoia not been so thoroughly piqued. "I will rest once the professor arrives. It should not be so long, now."

 _Oh,_ Claude thinks. Maybe Dimitri just doesn't want any healers walking in at an inopportune moment. Or maybe Claude's done something to offend the prince. Or maybe he's too afraid now of Claude dying to get close to him anymore. ...maybe he shouldn't have been so cavalier about all this, after all. _Maybe, Claude, you should just say what you mean for once in your life._ He curses his inability to see Dimitri's face; the other boy is usually not this hard to read.

"...right, of course. Makes sense." Claude fights for a moment with a frustrating pang of guilt. Dimitri just told him he was terrified that Claude was going to die; he hunted down the attacker and went out of his way to bring Claude back to the monastery and stay awake all night long so he'd be here when he woke up. And Claude can't even bring himself to show the tiniest bit of vulnerability, when it's just the two of them? He forces himself to speak more plainly, more seriously. "...but in the meantime, would you, uh...heh. Would you mind coming back to sit over here until then? It's just really unsettling, knowing you're in the room but..." The last words come out in a quiet murmur: "Touching you is reassuring right now, that's all."

For all of his odd misgivings and conflicted feelings... Dimitri cannot deny him this. Though hesitant, at first, the prince does return to his bedside, and does reclaim his seat there; from his expression, he's forgotten how he could so casually take Claude's hand in his own. "My apologies." Dimitri hasn't felt so frenzied ever since the first days after the Tragedy. Nothing has sounded so many alarms in his mind as this. His hand is atop Claude's again, when he can muster it.

Claude's pretty sure he’s failing to keep the relief from his face, and he thinks in this moment maybe that’s okay. He can’t help clutching at Dimitri’s hand a little more earnestly this time, as though if he doesn’t hold on tight, it will slip through his fingers. “...thanks. I guess I’m not exactly immune to being terrified myself...heh.”

"I would be far more concerned if you weren't, I believe..." Dimitri can't recall having felt such fear over the past four years, at least. He doesn't intend to slack off, nor to leave Claude here while he's confined to the infirmary... it will be a struggle, attempting to balance this in the midst of his other responsibilities, but not one that Dimitri isn't willing to face. "Does it still hurt? Your shoulder?" He hadn't even thought to ask until now.

”Mm, not much. It’s mostly the poison. Though I can’t tell if that’s because the wound has mostly healed or because of the weird numbness...” Claude's expression is fully serious, now. “To be honest, being effectively defenseless scares me more than the poison itself.”

"I understand." Dimitri's already promised that he'll be here, that he won't leave the other boy's side—were it that he actually could, and shield him in this time of vulnerability. "As much as I can, I wish to ensure your safety..."

Claude resists the urge to ask again for Dimitri to lie down with him...the urge to have the prince’s arms around him, holding him close. It’s a selfish urge, and besides, he’s already declined once. Instead, Claude brings his other hand over to sandwich Dimitri’s between both of his. “You and Teach are the only ones here I trust to do that,” he says quietly. “Hilda too, but she’ll be staying at Fodlan’s Locket for at least a week.”

Dimitri doesn't know what to say to that, namely because he can't seem to decide whether he's surprised by this admission of Claude's. They're close, that's certain, and that closeness surpasses attraction, that's clear by now. But still, to hear Claude actually affirm their... well. Relationship makes it sound more substantial than it likely is, but what else is he to call it? He doesn't manage a reply.

Claude tries not to be concerned at the silence that follows his statement; maybe Dimitri just forgot himself for a moment and nodded or something. He’s not used to all this uncertainty...he hates it, but he’s starting to think some of it might be in his head, a poison-addled lack of focus rather than a real need to see Dimitri to guess at what he’s thinking. After all, if the prince had something to say, chances are he’d say it. He suddenly has a thought, and takes a hand away again to slide it under his pillow, searching. Finding nothing, he frowns. “Are my things here? What I had with me on the trip?”

"Ah. Yes, I believe we have mostly everything." Luckily Dimitri's kept it here, at his own side, so he needn't let go of the other boy's hand to lean down and find the bag he's laid on the floor, half-tucked beneath Claude's cot. He hands it to him. "Did you bring any other bags aside from this? This is what I was given by the professor..."

Claude pulls the bag closer on his lap with his free hand, then slips that hand into it to fish out a long, tapered dagger by the hilt. Silly as it seems, sliding the dagger under his pillow does actually make him feel a bit safer. Just in case Dimitri has to leave during a time when Teach isn’t around either, he tells himself. “No, just this and my bow and quiver.”

"I believe your bow was taken to your room... did you want that here, as well?" It's a sentiment Dimitri understands, as his thoughts linger on the dagger vanishing beneath the pillow. Dimitri wasn't trusted with his own dagger after Duscur, not for some time, but... he's far more fortunate than Claude was, to never have needed it. His hand squeezes around Claude's. Not only the dagger: he has Dimitri's lance, his sword, as well. He needn't even ask. "Not only that—anything else you want as well, once the professor arrives."

Claude almost says yes, but...he shakes his head instead. “Couldn’t use it anyway. ...and I’d ask you to bring a few books, but—“ He gestures with his other hand, a helpless little shrug.

 _Books, hm._ Yes, before they started speaking regularly, they would often pass one another in the library... Dimitri's expression borders on sheepish. "If you can't yet read, I can read for you." ... and he then realizes, and his face reddens. "I. That is. To say..."

If it were anyone else, Claude would decline, likely with a joke to deflect his discomfort with the idea of being so useless as to make basically anything he might do to keep himself busy impossible. But...the idea of Dimitri reading aloud just for him, with that velvety voice he has, brings a faint flush to his cheeks. He could listen to the prince talk for hours, he thinks... He smiles a little. “I’d like that.”

Oh. Oh... Dimitri's glad his idea hasn't been immediately refuted. Claude has coaxed that shy smile from him once more, and so easily. "Right. Good. I-- will be certain to stop by the library when I can." More than anything, though, he's glad to see him smile so genuinely again. It helps to ease the burden on Dimitri's heart, a little. He sighs and the words slip forth before he can anticipate them. "I'm glad..." _He's here. Alive. Able to speak to me, and to smile, and recovering._

”...me too.” Claude goes quiet for a moment, remembering a time when Dimitri told him ‘I think that I love spending time with you.’ He hopes that’s still true, because he hates the idea that the prince might feel obligated to stick around the infirmary - nobody’s favorite place - on his behalf, but he hates the idea of being alone here even more. “Hm. You said you detained the assailant - can we interrogate them?” Turning his mind back to practical matters helps quiet the frustration and the fear.

"... ah." Dimitri's suddenly wondering what the professor will be... doing. With. The Body. Dimitri shifts in his chair like a child scolded. "I was... unable to detain him alive." The adrenaline from that time makes it difficult to recall if he truly _couldn't_ , or merely didn't wish to...

Claude nods, unperturbed. “Ah, understood. I’ll have to write to my grandfather and...” He pauses and sighs, frustration evident. “... _Teach_ will have to write to my grandfather and let him know what happened.”

"Judging from their response at our camp, I'm certain they're willing." As if at the very mention, Dimitri stops; a knock at the door, quiet, before-- "Ah! Professor--" The prince half-stands to greet them, remembers his hand in Claude's, and ends up... hovering there in an odd moment of uncertainty and embarrassment.

Berith doesn't appear to know... what, exactly, they've walked in on. They hover in the doorway for a long, silent moment, eyes flickering from Claude, to his hand grasping Dimitri's and then to the prince himself, and gives a silent nod, if a bit hesitantly. They lift their hands to sign. 'I can come back later.'

Claude's hand tenses around Dimitri's for a moment before he hears him greet the professor...still, he can't be 100% sure _which_ professor, exactly. Probably Berith? ...shit, if Berith responded he'd have no way of knowing. "...Teach, is that you?" He tries to sound casual about this question.

 _Oh. He'd-–_ "It's Professor Eisner," he clarifies softly, reclaiming his seat, and turns his attention back to their unexpected guest. "It's fine, Professor, please come in." He doesn't know if he's spoken loud enough for them to hear... oh, he must have. Berith is quick to close the door behind them and sweeps across the room, coming to stand on the other side of Claude's cot. They sign as they approach, and Dimitri purses his lips. "I'm sorry, Professor, he–- will not be able to see your signing."

Brief surprise flashes in their eyes; of course they wouldn't have known the poison had affected Claude's vision. Berith stops, contemplates... they're careful in lowering themselves to perch on the edge of his cot, and nudge, very lightly, at his arm. His hand, they're asking for it.

Claude relaxes, hearing his suspicion confirmed. "Sorry," he echoes, looking a bit sheepish as he turns toward the vaguely moving blur that is the professor, as they approach and sit. At the nudge, he takes a second to figure out what that probably means, and then extends his right hand palm-up, not letting go of Dimitri with the left.

Berith's careful with his hand. It's going to be cumbersome to put it lightly, but... it will have to do for now. They start slow as they trace, fingertip to Claude's palm. 'Understand?'

A tiny crease appears between Claude's brows as he orients himself to parsing the word. By the time it completes, he's nodding. "Got it. Did you run into any trouble on the way back? Did you find anything else? Dimitri told me about the sniper, and about Lorenz." He pauses there, making a face, aware he's asking questions too quickly for Berith to easily answer them...

'No trouble. Quiet trip. Brought the body.' A pause. 'Seteth is angry.'

Claude concentrates on the words unfolding in his palm, trying to parse them as quickly as possible. "Seteth?...huh. This kind of thing does reflect poorly on the Church from a certain perspective, doesn't it?" It's an uncharitable interpretation, perhaps, but it's not a condemnation. Seteth's never given Claude much reason to think he would put sentiment above practicality, and if Claude were in his position, that's where his mind would go first.

Their head tilts. Reflecting poorly... Berith doesn't care much about the 'reputation of the church', but generally anything that would harm it is something they would probably take issue with.

"I was going to ask you to send a letter to my grandfather to explain what happened, but it might be better if I dictate one to you. I want to make it clear to him that I don't fault you or the Academy."

'Okay. Can do.' A pause, then more tracing comes: 'Found an alcove. Few supplies. Brought what I could manage. Not much. In my office.'

Claude nods. "Did you bring the arrow? What does it look like?"

"I can recall the arrow seemed to be somewhat... shorter than most," Dimitri chimes in. "The fletching was of a sort that I can't say I recognize... not even as traditional Alliance fare."

Claude looks thoughtful. "Shorter arrows for speed. Do you remember what the fletching was like?"

"It was straight, but... the feathers themselves weren't ones I recognized, unfortunately." The prince is deep in thought, wracking his brain; for as much as he'd like to move on from yesterday, Claude deems it important. "Blue, with a tinge of green. Really quite vibrant and... not quite subtle, not at all."

Claude's lips press together into a thin line. "I'd have to see the pattern to be sure, but...that's an Almyran thing. Bright colors, to advertise their victory." Those specific colors suggest a specific warlord, in fact, though he doesn't plan to say so. And no one in Fodlan would even question it. As far as anyone here believes, Almyrans are terrifying and violent for no good reason. The worst part is, Claude himself can't be sure whether the sniper was actually loyal to that warlord, or just hired by an Alliance noble...like Count Gloucester. Or whether they weren't Almyran at all, and someone just used the fletching to make it _appear_ so. None of the options would surprise him.

The professor nods, and rubs briefly at their chin before they find Claude's hand again. 'Will inspect body again.' Then their eyes flicker up, to the prince sat across the bed, brimming with silent questions, before moving once more to their student. 'Your vision. How well? Can get the arrow.'

Claude shakes his head. "About all I can make out is differences in light and shadow. But you can describe it to me."

 _Describe it... sure._ 'Long blue fletching, straight. Green tinge to feathers. Dark wood shaft. Incredibly light. Head was roughly carved, stout but sharp. Couldn't smell or taste poison.'

"Professor... you..." He can't. He can't ask such a question. Dimitri hopes against hope they don't mean what he thinks they do...

Claude follows along, more sure the more Berith describes. After they finish, it takes him a moment to fully parse what they said. "Yeah, no question, that's--wait... _tell_ me you didn't lick the arrow, Teach." In a tone that says he absolutely would not put it past his professor to do such a thing.

A shame it is, that Claude can't see the horrific deadpan their features slacken into. 'Vial. Of. Extra.'

Claude chuckles. "I may not be able to see the expression on Dimitri's face, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't know you're messing with us, Teach." _Hopefully._ Then he sighs. "But yes, from your description, that's an Almyran arrow. That's all we need, an even messier diplomatic incident. Regardless of whether it's a ruse or not, the Roundtable's going to have a field day with this." Politics, from the guy who almost died not eight hours ago, and who isn't yet sure just how deadly this poison is.

A ruse... Dimitri had contemplated the possibility but had hoped it was merely his own paranoia making him biased. This is becoming horrifically familiar to him now, however. He squeezes Claude's hand. "May the Roundtable pardon my heedlessness, but my concern is you, not it. As far as my involvement in this matter extends at the least, politics can wait until your health is no longer under threat."

Claude squeezes back, in gratitude. "You're right, Dima. Survival first, of course." He intends to focus on both at once, but no need to worry Dimitri with his need for distraction. "Forgive my overactive mind, it's just...easier to focus on the prosaic. Particularly when there's nothing _else_ I can do." He's much less concerned about the professor being in the room for these more...intimate interactions than he would be if it were anyone else. At this point, he reasons, it's almost impossible that Berith hasn't noticed _something_ , and if there's one person Claude trusts not to spread rumors or cause problems, it's them.

Dimitri's relief at Claude's reassurance wars with distress knowing there's so little he can do... "I understand. Ah, but—since the Professor is here now, would you like me to visit the library?"

”I thought you were going to _rest_ when Teach got here.”

"This _is_ quite a bit of rest, compared to what I would normally be doing this time of day..." Dimitri is aware that he's pushing it, but how could he sit by and rest and leave Claude to stew in these thoughts already?

Claude gives Dimitri a wry smile. “Well, if you insist, I certainly won’t complain. But at _some_ point, I insist that you sleep.”

"Yes, yes, I plan to." And it's paired with a smile and a chuckle, an affectionate pat against Claude's hand. He's hesitant to let go, but he does have a few other ideas for things to bring here for the other boy... another squeeze before he, gingerly, lets go. "I will be back as quickly as I can be, I promise. I leave him in your capable hands, Professor." With a nod (and something of an embellished little bow) the prince hurries from the infirmary and into the hall.


End file.
